


call my bluff / call you babe

by blackandblue13



Series: it's nice to have a friend [1]
Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV 2020)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alex Mercer Has Bad Parents (Julie and The Phantoms), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Panic Attacks, Reggie Peters Has Bad Parents (Julie and The Phantoms), Sharing a Bed, a touch-starved hoe wrote this, alternate universe - modern day but no plague, i'd like to think this is a nice balance of cute and angst and stupid, idiots to lovers, minor julie/luke and carrie/flynn, there's alex/omc & reg/ofc & reg/omc but they're all exes that have broken up (or smthg) but dw, there's no love triangle it's all in your head, they're like 22 bc college, thought about taylor swift while writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:59:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29933082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackandblue13/pseuds/blackandblue13
Summary: There are three things Reggie Peters wholeheartedly knows to be true:1. The ocean, although terrifying, is the second-best shade of blue in the world.2. Banjos are the best instrument, although bass guitars are a close second place.3. He is in love with Alex Mercer.~or: some fake dating nonsense
Relationships: Alex Mercer/Reggie Peters (Julie and The Phantoms)
Series: it's nice to have a friend [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2201394
Comments: 19
Kudos: 79





	call my bluff / call you babe

**Author's Note:**

> cw: panic attacks, mentions of alcohol, exes that suck (one of them attempts to assault reg during the august 2020 section), vague references to reggie's parents being abusive, homophobic parents (no slurs) (i rated this M to be safe, but let me know if that should be changed)
> 
> disclaimer: i have been to california once, idk how ucla works, and i only had a semester and a half of college irl (anything i’ve learned during the pandemic has been for book/fanfic research purposes) so i apologize if i’ve portrayed anything extremely incorrectly. also, i am a slut for italics but i will not apologize for that. 
> 
> also, i forgot that, when i aged up the characters (putting ACFJLR in the same grade, B a year older, 4-and-a-half year age diff between julie&carlos (inspired by myself and my sister)), carlos also became older??,, mans is 17 in this... no.... he's a little baby..... 
> 
> title from “it’s nice to have a friend” by taylor swift 
> 
> [here's the spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0ZMhJjpBpKAW674DbC7pbN?si=zXWU4NfFRaWeHYWjPGGzyw) bc i'm a slut for music and there are quite a few songs mentioned

**Present day: September 2020: college, senior year.**

“Alex!” Reggie trips over his own feet and stumbles into the couch where his best friend sits, calmly finishing this week’s homework like the studious dude he is. “Alex, I need your help.” 

Alex pauses the music on his phone and slowly removes an earbud as if Reggie isn’t having a time-sensitive life crisis right now. “What’s up?” 

“Do you remember my ex, Marissa?” 

Alex furrows his brow and takes way too long to recall. “Was she the one who almost manipulated you into changing your entire life so you’d spend more time with her?” 

_Almost_. Wow. Way to put it kindly, Alex.

Reggie spent three days as a computer science major before Marissa’s true nature hit him like a truck. The music program accepted him back easily, but computer science isn’t for him. It was awful. He loves numbers but… not like _that_. He would’ve switched his major to fashion if she asked, which is kind of impossible, since UCLA doesn’t have a fashion program, and he wears the same three outfits like a freaking cartoon character, but he probably would have found a way because one (very pretty) girl had the power to convince him. 

“Yeah, yeah. _Anyway_ ,” Reggie changes the subject, balancing Alex’s notebooks on his lap to make room for himself as he sits on the small couch, “you know how she keeps trying to get back together every time she sees me, no matter how many times I say no?” 

Alex tugs the other earbud out, now eyeing Reggie warily. “Where is this going?” 

“Can you pretend to be my boyfriend so she won’t hit on me again?” Reggie grabs Alex’s hands with such haste that he drops the notebooks, barely noticing as the spirals hit his boots. “Please, please, _please_?” 

“Reg—” 

“She already saw me come in, and I’ll owe you — _anything_.” Reggie juts his lower lip out, hoping the pout will seal the deal. “Please, Lex?” 

Alex decides with a few seconds to spare before the elevator bell dings. “Fine.” He picks up the stack of notebooks from the floor, carelessly tosses them into his backpack, then pulls Reggie close from his space on the other side of the couch. His demeanor instantly softens as he gives Reggie a shy smile. 

“Well, damn, Alex, I said _pretend_ ,” Reggie points out in a hoarse whisper, clearing his throat while Alex trails a finger along his jaw. 

Reggie is used to cuddling with Alex. It’s literally built into their nightly routine of dinner and Netflix and laying on the couch until ~~Alex~~ _one of them_ gets too sleepy to continue. That, and a lifetime of friendship and constant physical affection. 

But Reggie isn’t used to guys flirting with him, especially Alex. He’s known he’s bi for, like, _ever_ , but that doesn’t mean he knows how to flirt with _anyone_. Growing up, he watched more movies with male-female flirting so he had _some_ kind of example, but gay movies were a rarity, and a good portion of them were bad, so. Not much to work with. 

All four of Alex’s past boyfriends never stuck around long enough to spend the night, so it’s not like he could’ve befriended them and maybe learned something. Two of them _did_ wink at Reggie upon meeting — when Alex wasn’t looking — and one of those two actually asked for Reggie’s number before Alex broke up with him. Which is, like, _wrong_. On so many levels. (Needless to say, Reggie didn’t give that guy the time of day, except when Alex — yes, _Alex_ — suggested ice cream for dinner, then proceeded to cry into it because his boyfriend of one month cheated on him three times. So. Him hitting on Reggie wasn’t out of character. Big yikes.) 

(There was also _Thomas_ , but it’s best to avoid thinking about him.) 

But then Alex cups his face with one hand, gently stroking his cheek with a thumb, tugging him just a bit closer, and Reggie forgets what words are. 

They’ve been in this sort of position before — lingering touches, mindlessly wandering fingers, small-but-strictly-platonic kisses placed anywhere except lips. They’ve always been like that. But this? This is _different_. This is Alex changing his entire body language to admire Reggie like they’re real boyfriends in love. 

Reggie doesn’t think he’s felt this way about any of his past partners, or that they felt this way about him. Alex is just… existing, and Reggie feels _safe_. 

Reggie almost forgets the reason they’re doing this until he hears high heels clicking dangerously close. He’s about to look up when Alex tugs his face back. “Focus on me, Reg, okay?” 

And Reggie nods, smiling as he presses a soft kiss to Alex’s palm. 

“Hey, Reg,” Marissa says in an all-too-sweet tone. 

“Reggie,” he corrects, but he’s either too quiet or she chooses to ignore it. Alex’s hand drops from his face to squeeze his knee. 

Marissa’s smile falters as her eyes catch the movement. “Is this your new boy-toy?” 

“ _Boyfriend_ , and I’m Alex.” He reaches out a hand for her to shake, then his arm returns to its place around Reggie’s shoulders, not-so-subtly pulling him closer. “And you are?” 

“Marissa,” she answers flatly, her niceties becoming desperate. “Reg must’ve mentioned me, right, Reg?” 

Reggie opens his mouth to speak but Alex answers for him. “Doesn’t ring a bell. Do you have class together?” 

“We dated for, like, three months,” Marissa scoffs. 

“Really? You don’t seem like his type,” Alex shoots back, the same bite behind his words, “'cause you’re, like, rude.” 

Marissa narrows her eyes. “His type is anyone that gets his dick wet, so you should be a perfect fit. Have a nice life, Reg,” she huffs and walks away. 

Alex brushes his thumb over Reggie’s cheek, wiping a stray tear he didn’t realize had fallen. “Sorry, I should’ve—” 

But Alex hushes him. “Three months?” 

“It was actually two, but apparently, she was flirting with me for a month before we got together.” Reggie shrugs. His memory of the relationship is cloudy, but he wouldn’t trust Marissa to fill in the details he forgot. “I’m sorry for freezing and not talking—” 

“It’s okay, Reg. If I were you, I wouldn’t want to talk to her either.” Alex squeezes his knee again. “Good thing you have an overprotective boyfriend.” 

Reggie laughs, suddenly feeling much better. “Thanks, Lex.” 

“Anytime, dude.” Alex pats his shoulder before returning to his homework. “You still owe me, though.” 

“Of course, your highness.” 

* * *

There are three things Reggie Peters wholeheartedly knows to be true: 

  1. The ocean, although terrifying, is the second-best shade of blue in the world. 
  2. Banjos are the best instrument, although bass guitars are a close second place. 
  3. He is in love with Alex Mercer. 



* * *

**October 2020.**

The guy at the bar introduces himself as Kyle. 

Luke had insisted that Reggie and Alex join him and Julie to see some up-and-coming band none of them had ever heard of, but Luke wanted to support local artists. Of course they all agreed; they walked a mile in this band’s shoes, taking an indefinite hiatus for college (thanks a lot, Bobby-who-stayed-in-Los-Feliz-for-work. There are tattoo parlors in Westwood, so he totally could’ve moved here, but whatever), and plan to continue that journey after getting their degrees. 

So that’s how Reggie finds himself ordering Coca-Colas for him and Alex, who tend to linger in the back with calmer audience members while Julie and Luke rock out near the mosh pit. Not Reggie’s speed, all those strangers touching him, but props to both of them for enjoying that? But the band doesn’t go on for another fifteen minutes, the venue is already packed with people filtering between the bar and the designated audience area, and Reggie’s way of killing time is by getting drinks. 

And that’s how he ends up talking to Kyle. 

And he’s _nice_. 

He’s sweet and funny and _hot_ , and he laughs at all of Reggie’s jokes, even the stupider ones that barely deserve an eye roll on a good day. 

And then Kyle asks him the loaded question of: “Do you want to go someplace quieter?” 

That could mean anything. It could be a simple _I like talking to you, but I’m having trouble hearing you because it’s very noisy here_. It could be the usual presumption of _I want to make out and/or have sex with you, but it would be inappropriate to say that outright, wink-wink, nudge-nudge_. Or the least likely, but still terrifying _I’m trying to murder you, but I want to seem charming by luring you to a secondary location_. 

Regardless, Reggie isn’t as oblivious as people think he is. He’s perfected the art of playing dumb, although he’s not one to brag. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean,” Kyle leans in until his mouth is next to Reggie’s ear, “do you want to get out of here?” His breath ghosts over Reggie’s skin, sending an odd, sickly feeling to the pit of his stomach. “My place is only a few blocks away.” 

“I, uh…” Reggie’s voice doesn’t connect to his brain and he can’t figure out how to respond because Kyle starts trailing kisses from his earlobe and down his jaw. 

The fact that Reggie is debating this in his head is unsettling, and he’d obviously choose Alex over this guy in a heartbeat, but Kyle seems to _want_ him. Maybe for a quick hookup, maybe for something _real_ ; either way, Reggie finds himself leaning into the touch. 

But it takes a millisecond for his head to catch up because, even if Alex doesn’t return his feelings, Reggie isn’t about to go to some random guy’s place. “No, I don’t…” When Reggie pulls away, Kyle gets the message. “I thought we were just talking.” 

“We are,” Kyle insists, sliding his hand across the bar toward Reggie’s. “But _I_ thought we could do a bit more, if you know what I mean?” Okay, maybe Kyle _doesn’t_ get the message. 

Then Reggie feels an arm over his shoulders, a kiss to his temple, and— “There's my gorgeous boy.” Alex cups his face with one hand and kisses his cheek, his forehead, his nose, smiling as Reggie giggles at the soft touches. “I feel like I sent you to get drinks forever ago.” 

His internal debate ends in a landslide. “I’ve been making friends,” he says simply. 

He plays innocent when Alex shoots a glare at Kyle. Alex stretches out a hand to introduce himself and Kyle winces at the strength of his grip. “I’m Alex. Reggie’s a charmer, isn’t he?” 

Kyle straightens his back. He leaned against the bar to match Reggie’s height, but now, he towers over Alex. “Oh, yeah, for sure. I was just inviting him back to mine,” Kyle says with too much confidence. “But I’m down for a third if you are?” 

Alex laughs dryly, stepping forward and blocking Kyle’s view while still keeping a hand on Reggie. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you want my hand near your dick after watching you try to hit on my boyfriend.” 

_Oh._

_Jealous Alex is kinda fucking hot._

Well, regular Alex is hot. But the rare spark of possessiveness paired with Reggie’s need for love and attention and constant validation (cue nervous laughter because this is _totally_ just an exaggerated joke) makes this whole situation… wow. _Wow_ , just… okay. He can deal with this. 

Reggie, being the helpful guy that he is, punctuates Alex’s statement with a small, chaste kiss to the side of his neck. Then he finally orders those drinks he’s been meaning to get, pretending to be oblivious to Alex and Kyle’s stare-down — which ends with Kyle storming off. 

When Alex turns back, he sends Reggie an apologetic smile. Drinks in hand, Reggie kisses his cheek and leads them to find a table toward the back of the audience section of the venue. 

“I’m so sorry,” Alex starts as they sit, reverting back to his usual, nervous self. He looks like he might be blushing, but Reggie attributes the potential tint to the bar’s odd lighting. “He was— it looked like you were really uncomfortable—” 

Reggie quirks an eyebrow. “How’d you know?” 

“You always fidget with your fingers when you’re anxious,” Alex says with a shrug, though he sounds too sure of himself to be acting so nonchalant. “And sometimes you re-tie your flannel when it’s around your waist, and you just… kept doing that the whole time he was talking to you.” 

“Oh.” He didn’t realize he was doing that, or that Alex would notice, especially from… wherever he was standing before. 

“I’m sorry, Reg—” 

“Alex.” Reggie puts a hand over his on the table. “It’s okay. You didn’t have to do that.” 

“I know, he just… he seemed creepy.” Alex spots something over Reggie’s shoulder, his gaze hardening as he kisses Reggie’s knuckles, then his inner wrist. “He _is_ creepy.” 

Reggie turns back in time to catch a glimpse of Kyle watching them from the other side of the crowd. Alex hooks his foot around the leg of Reggie’s stool and draws him closer in one swift move. 

He tries to sputter out a response as Alex sends Kyle another glare. “He isn’t getting the message, is he?” 

“That— that was _hot_.” 

Alex chokes on his soda, coughing, “I— what?” 

“You— that—” Alex pulls his stool closer again, and Reggie needs to get it together. “You think he’s gonna leave us alone?” 

“He’s already walked by three times so I doubt it,” Alex mutters. 

Reggie hops off his seat, tugging Alex along. “C’mon, I have an idea.” 

And that’s how they end up in the men’s bathroom, Reggie locking a stall door while taking off his leather jacket, which prompts Alex to finally ask, “What is happening?” 

“I want you to kiss my neck,” Reggie says as casually as possible while tossing his jacket to hang over the door. Friends can kiss each other’s necks, right? 

“What?” Alex sounds more surprised than disgusted or offended, which is a good sign, _right_? 

“Just, like, give me a hickey or two so he _knows_ he needs to back off.” Because, clearly, Kyle is _not_ paying attention to the obvious, boyfriend-shaped signal. 

Alex hesitates. “Are— are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I—” Reggie’s eyes widen in realization. “You don’t want to. _Oh, my god_ , I didn’t even _ask_ you. Fuck, Lex, we don’t have to—” 

“I’m okay, Reg,” Alex insists, cupping his face with both hands. “I— I don’t want you doing something you might regret because of— because of _some guy_.” 

“Alex, I’m good.” His fingers curl around Alex’s wrists. “I’m with you. I trust you.” 

“Oh.” Alex’s cheeks tint pink as he smiles. “Okay.” 

“So, we’re both okay?” 

Alex nods, visibly regaining his confidence. “Yeah. Yeah, um…” He taps Reggie’s cheeks lightly. “I don’t know where to put my hands?” 

“Oh, uh…” Reggie moves one of Alex’s hands down to his waist, the other to the back of his head, chuckling as he says, “This is normal, right?” 

“Mm-hmm. Totally.” 

Reggie sighs, picking up on Alex’s remnant discomfort from a mile away. “Would you feel better if I kissed your neck, too? For, like, equality?” 

He overhears the muffled sound of the band in the venue starting their set with a cover of Fall Out Boy’s _I’ve Got a Dark Alley and a Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth (Summer Song)_. The lyrics are wildly inappropriate for the moment Reggie and Alex are trying to have — aside from the first line — but whatever. Reggie’s got a pretty boy in a bathroom stall and he should shut his own mouth. 

Alex laughs, his hair brushing Reggie’s forehead as he leans in. “Yeah, a little bit, actually.” 

Correction: Reggie’s got a pretty boy in a bathroom stall and he should put his mouth on the pretty boy’s neck. Okay. Cool. 

So Reggie does just that. He presses a few tender kisses to the underside of Alex’s jaw, earning a low hum as they both relax. 

_“Joke me something awful just like kisses on the necks of ‘best friends.’”_

Kissing is… normal for them. Never on the lips and rarely on the neck because of the presumption of an intimacy Reggie is too scared to initiate, but the little ones are common. Reassuring gestures of love on hands and faces serving to make the fake-dating act that much easier. Their platonic level of affection is mostly synonymous with that of a "typical" romantic relationship. It always has been. 

Mostly. 

Because, when Alex places soft kisses down his neck, Reggie melts. Then there’s more pressure, more tongue, more teeth, _more Alex_ — Reggie’s brain stops working. 

_Alex is magic_ , Reggie decides, as if he hadn’t been aware of that fact for years. As if he didn’t know that from the first time he felt his heart beat so fast he thought he was going to explode because Alex _smiled_ , but he had no idea what else to call that emotion. As if he hadn’t been waiting for a day when he could kiss Alex and it could mean something _more_. 

As if his brain wasn’t on a constant loop of _He’s too good for you, you’ll never be good enough, you don’t deserve him, you’re a last choice at best, he’ll never love you the same_ — 

The lyric _“I’m hopelessly hopeful you’re just hopeless enough”_ rings truer now than before because he knows exactly how this will end up. Alex is going to find someone he loves so much more than Reggie, then Reggie will be alone, and he’ll beat himself up for letting himself believe — just for _a second_ — that this would have worked out in his favor. Even with Alex’s wandering hand pulling his shirt untucked. 

Ten minutes and a few ~~_many_~~ strategically placed hickeys later (read: the entire left side of Reggie’s neck), they run into Luke on their way out of the bathroom and, thankfully, he doesn’t comment on their disheveled clothing and hair. Instead, he tousles their hair with a cheeky smile and moves on with his business. 

Their former table has been taken over, as well as all the others, so they find an empty spot near a wall. Reggie is ready to ask if he should order another round of sodas, but Alex pulls him into a hug from behind. He snakes his arms around Reggie’s waist and hooks a chin over his shoulder while the band goes into a cover of _I Love the Stars_ by The Orion Experience. 

Reggie’s first instinct is to look for Kyle in case he’s nearby, not wanting to risk another altercation, even with a protective, fake boyfriend by his side, but Alex’s voice in his ear soothes him. “I don’t see him. You’re okay.” 

But then Reggie _does_ see him. He’s chatting with the bartender — yeah, Reggie is definitely _not_ asking Alex if he wants another drink — and he looks nice again. Not like someone who made Reggie uncomfortable, now that he truly thinks about their interaction. It didn’t click at first, but he can’t help feeling _gross_ about himself. 

_“I love the stars (J’adore les etoiles) / I love to make believe the universe is ours.”_

Reggie can defend himself. He knows he can because he’s done it before. Against parents, bullies, homophobes, whatever. So, technically, he doesn’t _need_ Alex to pretend to be his boyfriend whenever someone stands too close and looks at him in a way that makes his stomach drop. 

On the contrary: _it’s Alex_. Alex, whose arms are sturdy and protective and great for cuddling. Alex, who stepped in to help Reggie tonight without being asked, and was willing to do the same with Marissa last week. Alex, who _chooses_ to listen to him, to take care of him, to love him. Alex, who chooses _him_. 

So, when Kyle looks in their direction, Reggie’s hands find Alex’s, and he anchors them together as they watch the band fill half their set with pop punk and indie covers. Alex kisses the side of his head and his worries fade. 

He feels the song’s rhythm under his skin, closing his eyes and envisioning the bass line on the frets of his guitar. Alex follows along to the drums, tapping on Reggie’s side. He pulls away long enough to spin and face Alex, grabbing his hands, and swaying together. 

_“Someday we’ll be together, baby / The sun and the moon and the stars will align.”_

Alex watches Reggie dance like they’re the only people there, and Reggie can’t ask for a better audience of one. 

And then there’s somebody else. Two somebodies, in fact. Julie and Luke have abandoned their mosh pit jumping in favor of dancing with Reggie and Alex, respectively. Julie hugs him as the bassist plays a solo, letting him focus on the spotlighted sound as they sway. 

After the band sings the last chorus and quickly moves into a different tune that sounds vaguely like Arctic Monkeys — but it might be from the 1960’s? — there’s a hand on Julie’s shoulder. Reggie thinks it’s Luke or Alex until— 

“Hey, Julie,” Kyle says, giving her a side-hug as she breaks away from Reggie. Kyle and Julie. Hugging. Because they know each other. And they’re friends. That ran into each other at this concert. “Who’s your— oh.” 

Julie doesn’t notice the sudden tension and Reggie chalks it up to the high volume of the music and the low lighting of the room. “Kyle, this is my friend Reggie that I was telling you about. Reg, this is Kyle. We’re in the jazz ensemble together.” 

_That’s_ why Kyle looks like a nice person from far away. Reggie’s seen him perform when he and all their friends have gone to support Julie. It’s funny; Reggie plays bass, Kyle sings it. 

Thankfully, Julie stays by his side. This isn’t her trying to set him up with a random, pretty, musical guy she knows. This meeting is purely coincidental. 

“Julie mentioned you’re single?” Kyle asks with a smirk. Fuck. He knows. Did he know when Alex introduced himself? When Reggie started talking to him? 

“Kyle!” Julie yelps with a laugh. “I wanted to introduce you guys to be _friends_ because you have the same, dumb sense of humor.” Definitely not a setup. 

“We’ve already had our introductions,” Kyle says, turning to Reggie. “It didn’t click with me that you’re _Julie's_ Reggie when we were talking earlier.” Okay, so that’s a no to both of his questions. 

Julie tilts her head in confusion. “I didn’t know you guys knew each other.” 

“Oh, not until tonight,” Kyle explains in a sickly sweet tone, resting his elbow on Julie’s shoulder. “See, I had the honor of meeting him _and_ his weirdly possessive boyfriend who never leaves his side. Until now, I guess?” 

Julie opens her mouth to speak at the same time Kyle reaches toward Reggie, drawing Julie’s attention to the hickeys. Reggie flinches back into someone’s chest — this time, it _is_ Alex, who catches him by his arms. Julie quirks an eyebrow, but she seems to understand that their conversation will have to happen later. 

Alex scans his face, then turns to Julie and says, “Hey, Jules, I’m pretty tired, so I think Reg and I are gonna head home.” Alex squeezes his shoulders, silently releasing some of the tension he’s been carrying all night. “Right, love?” 

Reggie waits to nod until he spots Luke slipping his hand into Julie’s. He isn’t about to leave Julie alone with Kyle. “Yeah, yeah, um…” He kisses Julie’s cheek goodbye — and Luke’s, too, because _It’s about the equality, Reg_ — and Alex follows suit, calling _Text us when you get home_ before guiding Reggie out of the bar with a hand on his back. 

Was Reggie holding his breath that whole time? Because, now that they’re walking home, Alex’s hand in his, it’s like all the air comes rushing back into his lungs. 

Alex doesn’t push when he stays quiet for the rest of their walk home. He just… _stays_ , leading the way, unlocking their apartment, and kissing Reggie’s cheek goodnight. 

~~~ 

**queen julie**  
you and alex???   
explain NOW please 

**reg**  
kyle is not good at flirting  
bad vibes  
uncomfy  
alex pretended to be my bf  
saved the day haha  
not a big deal  
won’t be happening again  
so  
¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**queen julie**  
i’m so sorry, babe :(   
if i knew, i wouldn’t have introduced you 

**reg**  
not your fault  
no worries, i’m good now!  
i love you!

**queen julie**  
i love you, too <3   
get some rest, love! 

**reg**  
you, too!  
drink some water  
you were very sweaty

**queen julie**  
yeah bc of the mosh pit   
and luke loves to ~dance~ 

**reg**  
lol very funny

**queen julie  
**Attachment: Video. 

**reg  
**holy fuck

**queen julie**  
;) 

**reg**  
on that note  
sweet dreams, jules  
luke’s dancing will haunt mine :)

**queen julie**  
:P   
night, reg 

~~~ 

“Hey, Lex, you—” Reggie starts, lightly knocking as he pushes Alex’s bedroom door open, only to be met by the boy himself standing in the doorway. “I, um, I just wanted to check in. Make sure you’re okay.” 

“Oh,” Alex chuckles. “I was just about to do the same for you.” 

Oh. Reggie does a little twirl. “All good here.” 

“Uh, good. That’s good.” Alex scratches the back of his neck. “Me, too. Also good.” 

“Good. Cool.” Reggie fidgets with the flannel around his waist. “Sorry about the…” He gestures to his own neck. “You know.” 

“It’s— it’s okay.” 

“We should probably, um, set boundaries or something. In case we do _this_ again.” 

“Oh.” Alex’s cheeks flush pink, but this time, Reggie can’t blame it on the lighting of the room. “I mean, I’ve been cool with everything. But, like, if I ever do something and you get uncomfortable, uh, let me know, and vice versa, you know?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Reggie pulls his sleeves over his hands. “I’ve been cool with stuff, too, so, um, yeah.” 

“Yeah,” Alex repeats. 

Reggie chews his lip as he tries to think of something else to say that doesn’t involve _Good, cool, yeah_ , but his mind draws a blank. 

“So, uh…” Alex points to his neck. “That didn’t work, huh?” 

Reggie self-consciously covers it with a hand. “Yeah, no, not really. I’ll probably just dig up my old concealer or something.” 

“Oh.” Alex frowns. 

“What?” 

“The last time you wore concealer…” Alex trails off, but Reggie knows his next words will be somewhere along the lines of _You were still living with your parents_. “I don’t know. I— I don’t want to sound like _that_ boyfriend — fake or not — who tells you not to wear makeup.” 

Reggie feels like there’s more he’s not saying. “But…?” 

“You were— you were basically painting it on, Reg. When I think of you and concealer, I think of all the shit that happened in high school and— and I don’t want you going back to the place.” 

“I’m not, Lex. It’s just a bit of concealer.” 

Alex’s voice drops to a whisper. “You said that then, too.” 

“This is _different_ —” 

“I know. I _know_ , Reg, but, god, I…” 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

**Flashback: October 2016: high school, senior year.**

“Reg, why do you have, like, six different eyeliner pencils?” Alex asked while digging through Reggie’s nightstand drawer. 

“Seven, actually,” Reggie corrected, holding up the one he was using. “I keep forgetting what brand I use when I go to Rite Aid. You can have one of the unopened ones if you want.” 

Alex grabbed one and joined Reggie in the bathroom. “Only if you put it on me.” 

Reggie finished his own makeup, then took the pencil from Alex. As he unwrapped the seal, Alex poked him in the sides, causing Reggie to yelp unceremoniously. “I can’t put this on if you do _that_ again.” 

Alex held his waist and Reggie felt his cheeks heat up. “Better?” 

Reggie nodded, not trusting his voice to do anything but crack while Alex was _right there_. He applied the eyeliner quickly but neatly, gently maneuvering Alex by the chin as needed. 

When he finished, Alex didn’t move back like Reggie expected. Instead, he stayed just as close and asked, “How do I look?” 

“Perfect,” Reggie blurted. “I— I mean pretty. Nice. You look pretty nice, I guess.” 

Alex tilted his head forward as he laughed, soft and melodious. “Thanks, Reg. You’re sweet.” And— _oh, god, was he leaning in_ — “Are you wearing makeup?” 

Um. “Yeah, you saw me putting on eyeliner.” 

“No, I mean…” Alex’s hand brushed the side of his face, thumbing a spot until the concealer came off on his finger, revealing a redness that was too dark to be excused as natural. “What happened?” 

“It— it’s just concealer, Lex—” Reggie froze, but was immediately snapped out of his internal panic by a slam from downstairs. His parents were back — or just his dad, more likely. He didn’t think either of them would be back so soon. He thought he’d get to spend more time alone with Alex. “We— we should go.” 

“Reggie—” 

“We don’t wanna be late for sound check, right?” 

“It’s in three hours, Reg.” 

“Can we—” There was another slam — his parents’ bedroom door, based on how much closer it sounded — which meant they only had so much time. “Alex, please.” 

He didn’t want to wait for a response. His head was spinning with the single thought of _Get out while dad was distracted_ , but there was no way he’d walk out that door without Alex. Thankfully, they were always on the same page. 

Instead of going to the concert venue early, or maybe sneaking in an extra rehearsal at the studio, Alex suggested they walk along the beach. The Peterses’ house was out of sight and the crashing of waves made it too loud to talk. Alex — yes, germaphobe and texture-sensitive Alex — convinced him to go barefoot in the sand, although his eyes were glued to the ground for most of their journey, making sure neither of them stepped on glass. He held Reggie’s hand and didn’t ask questions about what happened at his house, even when they were on their way to the studio. 

“I’m sorry” was how Reggie restarted the conversation. 

Alex squeezed his hand, silently encouraging him to continue. 

“My dad— he drinks a lot, and he and my mom fight, and I— I don’t want you to see that.” 

“By fight, you mean…?” 

“They argue. Just verbal, but my mom’s thrown stuff and my dad’s broken whatever bottle he’s drinking out of, but nothing bad, really.” 

“Reg, that’s awful.” 

Reggie shrugged. “It’s not that bad.” 

“Have they ever—” 

_Yes_ , his mind screamed. “No.” 

And that was where he ended it, refusing to offer anything else, even when he overheard Alex talking about him when the band was supposed to be packing Luke’s van. 

“I’m worried about Reggie.” Alex’s voice came out as a hushed whisper, but clearly, he wasn’t quiet enough. 

Reggie hid behind the studio door, crouching beneath the window. 

He heard Luke next. “Alex, you’re always worried about him—” 

“This is _different_.” 

There was a brief silence. Then, Julie: “What do you mean?” 

“You know how his parents argue?” Alex asked. Another pause. “I think— he’s wearing makeup today.” 

“Like his eyeliner?” Luke guessed. 

“No, it’s the, uh, the stuff you put on your skin.” 

“Concealer,” Julie confirmed. “But why…?” 

“I think something’s happening at home and he’s not telling us, and I feel like it’s gonna get worse, and you guys didn’t see him when he thought his dad was home—” 

Reggie didn’t want to hear any more. He went back to the van and called Bobby. He needed something to make himself look busy, like he wasn’t eavesdropping, and he wanted to hear about Bobby’s job at the tattoo parlor before the whole band met up. 

When Reggie couldn’t talk to Alex, he’d call Bobby, who would always listen to him, letting him ramble about everything he needed to get off his mind until he could figure out the words to explain how he was _really_ feeling. Reggie talked about the most recent book he finished, Bobby offered to do a tattoo for him — which was the gist of half of their usual conversations, despite Reggie being underage and the possible jail time Bobby could face if they got caught — but this time, Reggie agreed. Screw California and their tattoo age restrictions, right? 

They said a quick goodbye when the band finally came out of the studio, Julie’s keyboard and the last of the cables in hand, and told them Bobby called to say he was on his way to the venue. 

And they just _smiled_ at him, like they hadn’t been talking about his life behind his back. He wasn’t about to mention it either. What was the point, varying degrees of pity every five minutes when he made a slightly worrying joke, or when he missed a note, or when they looked at him and thought about how they could fix the situation? Fix _him_? 

He’d rather play the oblivious, goofball friend that tripped over his own feet to make others laugh so they wouldn’t think too hard about anything he said. So, he did. 

Luke clapped his shoulder before calling shotgun, Julie grabbed her keys, and Alex and Reggie took the back seats. He stared out the window for the whole drive, pretending not to notice the smile Alex was trying to send him. 

Fuck that. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I’m okay now, Lex,” Reggie says, stepping forward, almost reaching out to grab Alex’s hands, but then chooses against it, and crosses his arms. 

Alex, however, does make the move to cup Reggie’s cheek. “I know. I just… I worry about you sometimes.” 

Reggie can’t hold back his laugh. “Only sometimes?” 

“All the time, Reg. Obviously,” Alex says sarcastically, though the earnestness in his eyes betrays him. He keeps his gaze on Reggie, scanning his face like he wants to say something else, and Reggie can hear his own heart beating. 

He clears his throat. “It’s, uh, late. We should probably sleep.” 

“Yeah.” Alex’s hand drops. “Yeah, good idea.” 

“Thanks for— for tonight. In case I didn’t already say it.” 

Alex nods shortly. “Yeah, anytime.” 

“Goodnight, dude.” 

“Night, Reg.” 

Then Alex disappears into his room and Reggie sighs out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Geez. That… could’ve gone better, but it also could’ve gone worse. 

He doesn’t have much time to dwell on the awkward interaction as his phone buzzes with missed messages from Julie. 

**queen julie**  
if something DOES happen with alex  
tell me before you tell luke lol ;) 

**reg**  
got it, jules

He feels bad about not telling Julie the full story — and not explaining it to Luke at all — but, what’s the point? It was a one-time thing… okay, _two_ -time thing where Alex swooped in to save the day. But Reggie doesn’t need saving. He can handle himself. He _should_ be able to handle himself. 

Anyway, it’s not like it’s going to happen again. 

* * *

It keeps happening. 

A guy in their music history lecture — who’s been failing to properly flirt with Alex since the semester began — passes Reggie a slip of paper with his name and phone number on it, mouthing _Give it to Alex_ when Reggie sends him a questioning look. But, before he can react, Alex drapes his arm across the back of Reggie’s chair, the paper and the guy now long forgotten. 

In the midst of wandering an art gallery, some creep tries the pickup line _Are you a masterpiece? Because I’d like to pin you to a wall_ , and Reggie blurts out _I have a boyfriend_ a bit too loudly to be considered as proper museum etiquette. Then Alex’s hand is in his, the creep leaves, and Reggie can breathe again, especially when their hands stay intertwined for the remainder of their visit. 

A waitress can’t take her eyes off of an oblivious Alex during brunch, so Reggie makes sure he kisses Alex’s knuckles and says _Happy anniversary, baby_ when she’s within earshot. 

Alex steals his flannels when he takes them off in the middle of classes, tucking it underneath his own denim jacket, and Reggie thanks his past-self for always buying them one size up. 

Reggie is automatically excluded from a middle school-esque game of “Spin the Bottle” at some music majors’ fraternity party, and when he asks why, someone points out the fact that he’s literally sitting on Alex’s lap (“I’m just pretty furniture, I guess” is how Alex responds, and Reggie corrects him by saying he’s _beautiful_ furniture). 

And Reggie… geez, whatever _this_ is, Reggie is royally _screwed_ , isn’t he? 

* * *

**queen julie**  
alex. 

**lex**  
julie. 

**queen julie**  
so i just had jazz ensemble rehearsal 

**lex**   
oh? 

**queen julie**   
why did kyle tell me   
you threatened to rip his dick off??? 

**reg**  
ahaha throwback

**luke pat ;)**  
w h a t 

**lex**  
…   
it was an accident 

**luke pat ;)**  
HOW   
alexander,,,   
explain yourself, young man

**lex**  
well   
he made reggie uncomfortable 

**queen julie**  
okay valid 

**reg**  
i feel special

**luke pat ;)**  
you are, baby ;) 

**lex**   
please flirt with reg in private 

**luke pat ;)**   
okay ;) 

**queen julie**  
-_-  
smh my head 

**reg**  
shaking my head my head??

**queen julie**  
can we get back to alex   
Threatening Someone??? 

**lex**  
no <3 

~~~ 

**luke pat ;)**  
hey, baby ;) 

**reg**  
hello, darling :)  
tell julie i love her <3

**luke pat ;)**   
not me?   
smh my head   
she said she loves you <3 

**reg**  
:D

* * *

**November 2020.**

Reggie sort of… hates parties. 

Don’t get him wrong — he loves socializing and meeting new people. The speakers blast the 80’s mix of _Nights Like These_ by Bears In Trees, which makes him feel like he’s in a music video. Plus, drunk people are the best audience when trying out new jokes. He’s just slightly uncomfortable with the idea of people dancing into his personal space and possibly spilling their drinks all over him. 

Okay, maybe a little more than _slightly_ , but whatever. His own discomfort seems insignificant compared to Alex’s. 

Poor, sweet Alex — who turns into a bit of a blushing mess when cute boys smile at him — is blissfully unaware that the girl he’s been chatting with for the past ten minutes has been trying to hopelessly _flirt_ with him. Not like she’ll ever have a chance. 

And then the girl is feeling Alex’s bicep, which sends Reggie from his spot on the floor — goodbye to his tipsy conversation partner. Seriously, why are people so handsy when they’re drunk? — to where Alex leans against the wall, slowly freezing under the girl’s grasp. 

So, Reggie does what comes naturally. He jumps into Alex’s arms, thankful he’s drinking an alcohol-free Coca-Cola, masked by the sly uniformity of every college party’s red Solo cup, and effectively knocks the girl’s hand away in the process. 

“Hey, baby,” Reggie says slowly, peppering kisses down Alex’s cheek and the side of his neck. “I’ve been looking for you.” 

Alex’s arm circles his waist as he moves his head back, getting a clear look at Reggie’s face. His cheeks are tinted pink, but Reggie blames it on the heat of the crowded room. “How drunk are you?” 

Reggie giggles and kisses the tip of his nose. “I’m— I’m not _drunk_.” He’s not. But if this girl _thinks_ he is, then he and Alex have an excuse to go home and be free of her flirting. He pretends to stumble and steady himself on Alex’s chest. “I haven’t seen you in _forever_.” 

“It’s only been a few minutes, my love,” Alex assures him, setting his cup on the nearest table and curling his hand around Reggie’s wrist. 

“But I _missed_ you!” Reggie buries his face in the crook of Alex’s neck for dramatic flair. 

He feels Alex tilt his head to look at the girl. “I should take him home.” 

“I’ll call you?” she asks in a hopeful tone. 

“No, thanks. I’m gay” is the last thing Alex says before leading Reggie out the door. 

The second they hit the sidewalk, Reggie is _done_ with his makeshift acting gig, standing up taller and showing off his ability to walk in a ~~mostly~~ straight line, but Alex still questions him. “So, how much _did_ you drink?” 

“I didn’t even finish my Coke.” Reggie pouts, reminiscing his abandoned drink. “You owe me, _my love_.” 

Alex throws his head back with a laugh as he finds Reggie’s hand, automatically entwining their fingers. “Of course, _baby_.” Alex pokes him in the side, getting an unceremonious yelp from Reggie. “You’re handsy when you’re fake-drunk.” 

“And you’re handsy when you’re fake-dating me,” Reggie says, then winks as he adds, “but I won’t kiss and tell.” 

* * *

**December 2020.**

“I have a problem,” Reggie announces upon Luke’s arrival. 

“What did Alex do?” 

“What— Alex didn’t _do_ anything—” 

“—because he’s perfect and never does anything wrong,” Luke finishes, taking a seat at one of the barstools at the kitchen island. “You’ve told me a million times, Reg.” He looks down at his feet, which dangle just a few inches above the ground whenever he sits there. “Have you guys ever thought about chairs?” 

Ever since Luke and Julie moved out of the dorms and into an apartment together, Luke has been oddly interested in interior design. It was cute two years ago, but now he only comments about their barstools, and Reggie is pretty sure Alex insists on keeping them out of spite. 

Thankfully, Luke doesn’t critique the odd setup of the rest of their apartment. The kitchen and living room area are technically one big room? The only _real_ separation is between Alex and Reggie’s rooms, those being on opposite sides of the unit. Oh, and the bathroom. But, in Reggie’s head, he’ll pretend all the rooms are disconnected, like in a real house. And in his old house with his parents. (Oof, too soon, Reg.) 

“Alex has a weird grudge against chairs,” Reggie lies. “We can only have sofas or really tall stools or we sit on the floor.” 

“Maybe _I_ have a problem with Alex.” 

“I don’t have a problem with Alex!” 

Luke smirks. “So, what _is_ your problem, Reg? Your problem that had to wait until Alex wasn’t here so we could talk about it in private?” 

Reggie chews his lip nervously. “I have a problem with Alex.” 

Luke rolls his eyes. He’s already heard all of Reggie’s complaints. “Is he being too pretty again? Because, as his best friend, I don’t think we can fix that.” 

“He— _no_.” Reggie runs a hand through his hair as he sits on the other stool. His toes barely drag on the floor, but he enjoys the small victory over Luke. “We, uh, we’ve been pretending to date.” 

Luke snorts. “Yeah, that’s gonna end well.” 

“Shut up,” Reggie says, nudging his shoulder with a weak fist. “It’s just for— like, when we’ve run into exes, or when one of us is being hit on and the person is making us uncomfortable, or… I don’t know.” 

“And how’s that going?” Luke asks in a rare, earnest tone. 

“I mean, we cuddle, and we’ve slept in the same bed, and he kisses my cheek when I let him choose what we watch on Netflix, but, like… we’re just doing all that same affection stuff in public now, you know? So people will back off?” 

“And you’re okay with that?” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Reggie says with a shrug as he looks down at his hands. “I’ve liked him forever, so I’m not really looking to date anyone else? I only dated other people because _he_ was dating people, and I tried to get over him, but clearly, that didn’t work, so…” 

“So, what changed?” 

Reggie furrows his brows. “What do you mean?” 

“Why now? What makes your fake relationship such a huge priority that you don’t even look at other people anymore?” 

“It’s Alex,” Reggie answers like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “It’s always been Alex. I don’t need to ask him, he’s just _there_ , and he holds me like I’m the only thing that matters, and— and he _looks_ at me like I’m the only person in the room, and I’ve never come close to feeling like this about anyone I’ve dated.” 

“This doesn’t sound like much of a problem?” 

“It _is_ , because it’s _Alex_.” Reggie lets his head fall onto the island counter. “He’s never gonna feel the same way.” 

“Reg,” Luke says softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. Reggie tilts his head to look up at him. “Like you said, it’s Alex. He’s always gonna love you, no matter what. I think… I think you should just let yourself feel.” 

“What?” 

“You’ve been pushing this crush down for years. It doesn’t sound like it’s going away soon and, even if you _do_ finally grow out of it, there’s always gonna be a small part of you that’s still a little bit in love with him. So, you should _feel_ it. Actually allow yourself to be okay with it.” 

Reggie gawks at him. He’s spent the last few years of living with Alex — _especially_ senior year of high school — trying to crush this crush, and now he’s supposed to… feel? Like, accept it, regardless of the consequences? “Were you always this emotionally smart?” 

Luke throws his head back with a laugh. “Definitely not. Julie’s an angel, though, and I wouldn’t be aware of, like, any of my emotions if I didn’t have her.” Luke squeezes his shoulder. “But, dude, I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere if I didn’t accept the fact that I like her.” 

“So… you’re _not_ gonna give me the same advice everyone’s been trying for years when they say I should just tell him… and that I should just… feel?” 

“Just feel, man.” 

“That’s… it?” It sounds too… _easy_. 

“Do whatever you gotta do to feel. Ask him for another hug. Tell him you appreciate him. Lay on his bed while he does homework. Buy him coffee the next time you guys go to that secret cafe you won’t tell me and Jules about. Whatever, dude, just stop pushing it down because you think it’ll be inconvenient.” 

Reggie almost knocks him off his seat while tackling him in a hug — which Luke gladly returns by surprising Reggie and lifting him off his feet — at the same time Alex walks through the door. 

“Hey, guys, what’s up?” 

Reggie mumbles into Luke’s shoulder. “Luke promised he wouldn’t suggest we watch _House Hunters_ for boys’ night—” 

“I did _not_ —” 

“Aww, Luke.” Alex joins their hug, pressing a kiss to the top of both of their heads. “What a sweetheart.” 

Luke’s grumble of protest is muffled by Alex’s shirt, but Reggie thinks he catches something along the lines of _It's not even on Netflix anymore_. 

“C’mon, Lukas,” Alex says, breaking away first, “we gotta make dinner.” 

“That’s not— what’s for dinner?” Typical Luke to stop complaining at the first mention of food. 

“Pizza, Reg?” 

Reggie checks the dinner calendar on the fridge — it was Alex’s idea to write out their nightly meal plan in advance. It prevents them from arguing while trying to figure out what to eat, so Reggie deems it _technically helpful_ , even if it means he can’t eat pizza every single night. It also saves them money, since they make more food at home and eat out less. 

“Pizza!” Reggie cheers. 

Alex washes his hands while Reggie gets ingredients from the fridge, switching off as they coerce Luke into joining them, then pizza is baking in the oven, and Luke is complaining about the barstools again. 

“It’s just— they’re too tall, you know?” Luke critiques, despite not living here. “Jules and I have been furniture shopping, and I wouldn’t want to get anything that makes her uncomfortable because the size is weird or—” 

“Dude, it’s just a chair,” Reggie reminds him. 

“It’s not just a chair, it’s the whole house!” Luke insists. “What if I get one she hates and it throws everything off, and then she hates me because I screwed up—” 

“Luke,” Alex says softly, taking the seat next to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. “What’s going on?” 

Luke fishes something out of his pocket and places it on the counter, then runs a hand through his hair in favor of looking at it. 

Reggie’s jaw drops. “Is that—” 

“—an engagement ring?” Alex finishes. 

“It’s the wrong size,” Luke answers. “It’s the _wrong size_. I tried measuring her finger when she was asleep, but I _know_ it’s the wrong size. I should—” Luke cuts himself off with a sigh, pulling out his phone— 

Then Alex and Reggie’s phones buzz at the same time. 

“Dude, why are you texting us?” Reggie grumbles, reading the screen and finding out that is _not_ that case. 

“I didn’t—” 

Alex snorts out a laugh. “You texted Julie? You dumbass.” He nudges Luke in the side, who immediately grabs for his phone, then fails when Alex holds it over his head. 

Luke’s eyes widen. “How’d you know?” 

Reggie holds up his phone for Luke to read. “Because _she_ texted _us_.” 

**queen julie**  
luke just asked what my ring size is? 

**queen flynn**  
bout time 

**queen carrie**  
subtle! 

**reg**  
:)

**lex**  
don’t worry   
reg and i are calling him an idiot right now 

“Alex!” Luke yelps. 

“Well, you’re an idiot,” Alex says flatly. 

**queen julie**  
wait, you’re with him?   
did he say something? 

**queen flynn**  
reggie do NOT show him this group chat 

**queen carrie**  
can’t talk shit about luke if he knows smh 

Reggie frowns. “Why are they singling _me_ out?” 

“You guys talk shit about me?” Luke pouts. 

“No, look, Julie _just_ made this group.” Reggie shows him the time stamp on the first message to prove his point. 

Alex grabs his phone, holding it out of the other boys’ reach. “You need to stop—” 

“But I want to _see_!” Luke groans. 

The oven dings and Alex shoves oven mitts into Luke’s hands, directing him to take the pizza out and _Stop— stop jumping on me_. 

**reg**  
jeufueofisjwosoox

**queen flynn**  
??? 

**queen carrie**  
you okay, sweetie? 

**reg**  
took reggie’s phone away  
—alex

**queen carrie**  
thank you, king 

“Lex, give it _back_ —” 

Instead of responding, Alex puts Reggie’s phone on top of the fridge, frustratingly out of reach. Reggie retaliates by stealing Alex’s phone out of his pocket. 

**alex**  
CICTORY  
VICITOT  
NO

**flynn  
**jules, babe, what have you done 

**julie**  
i made a mistake 

“Reginald—” 

Reggie tries running to the bathroom — the only room in the apartment that locks — but Alex blocks his path. There’s a silent agreement to avoid passing Luke, who seems to be taking his sweet time retrieving the pizza from the oven. Reggie ducks under Alex’s arm, then Alex catches the back of his flannel, which he slides out of in order to escape. Alex tosses the flannel to the side and continues chasing Reggie around the apartment, oblivious to Luke climbing on the counter next to the fridge, getting Reggie’s phone, and filming their nonsense. 

**reg**  
Attachment: Video.  
boys’ night :)  
—luke

**queen flynn**  
no brain cells in apartment 309 huh 

**reg**  
i’m here too!  
—luke

**queen flynn**  
like i said 

**reg**  
you guys are mean  
—luke

**queen carrie**  
luke, sweetie, 

**reg**  
>:(  
—luke

**queen julie**  
i love you! 

**reg**  
i love you too jules <3  
—leufodpc

**queen julie**  
not this again… 

_queen carrie has left the group._

_queen flynn has left the group._

**queen julie**  
don’t get into too much trouble, y’all 

_queen julie has left the group._

~~~ 

“Hey, Reg?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Why me?” 

Reggie sets down the dish he had been drying and pauses the music playing on his phone. Luke recommended they listen to an album by Real Friends, but Alex’s question compels him to stop halfway through _Sixteen_ , which was starting to hit too close to home. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean,” Alex starts, intently focusing on the mug he washes, “Why _me_? When you saw Marissa and needed a fake partner?” 

“Oh.” His memory of their relationship may be hazy but… “She didn’t like it when you hugged me.” 

Alex drops the mug in the sink and Reggie sucks in a breath. “What?” 

“She didn’t really explain it.” That's a lie. “She just…” 

_“I don’t know, it just feels a little possessive?” Marissa suggested when Reggie had asked her._

_“It’s just hugging” was how Reggie defended it._

_“So, I shouldn’t be worried about you leaving me for him?”_

_Marissa posed the question like she could see right through him, like his years of adoring Alex were tattooed across his forehead. And Reggie, being the good boyfriend, did everything in his power to reassure her and prevent his heart from dropping every time Marissa pouted when Alex walked into a room._

Alex pulls him back to the present and into a hug, his hands slightly damp from the sink, but immensely comforting as he rubs Reggie’s back and strokes through his hair. “I’ve got you, Reg.” It’s like this boy can read his mind whenever he needs a hug. 

He nods into Alex’s shoulder, not trusting his voice. 

“We’ve gotta catch up on a lot of cuddling then, huh?” 

“Hmm?” Reggie tilts his head back in time to watch Alex press a kiss to his temple. 

“C’mon,” Alex says, tugging Reggie toward his room. 

“What about—” 

“The dishes will still be there tomorrow,” Alex finishes. “You need this now.” 

“I’m fine, Lex—” 

“You haven’t let go.” As if to emphasize his point, Alex pulls away slightly and Reggie automatically moves closer, gravitating toward him like they’re connected by an invisible string. Huh. That’s a nice way of phrasing it. It reminds him of… 

_“And isn’t it just so pretty to think, all along, there was some invisible string tying you to me?”_

“What’s going on in that head?” 

“Taylor Swift,” Reggie blurts out. 

“As usual.” He can feel Alex smile against the side of his head. “What song?” 

If he says _invisible string_ , that’ll be too obvious, right? A song about soulmates, being connected to another person? And it’ll completely give away the fact that he’s in love with Alex? But the only other song that comes to mind is— “ _Sparks Fly_.” No, Reggie, _no_. That’s _worse_. 

Alex tenses up for a split second, which justifies Reggie’s thought process of _That’s way worse_ , then he relaxes and says, “ _My_ eyes are green. You think she’s singing about me?” 

Reggie almost sighs out loud. Thank goodness Alex is focusing on the eye color of Taylor Swift’s muse and not the whole aspect about falling for someone she (read: Reggie) shouldn’t have fallen for. “Not everything is about you, Lex,” he jokes. 

“When it comes to Miss Swift—” 

“Didn’t you want to cuddle?” 

Alex rolls his eyes and playfully shoves Reggie away. “Go. I’ll catch up in a minute.” 

And as Reggie gets ready for bed while Alex puts the last of the plates in the dishwasher, he _swears_ he hears Alex humming the lyric, “ _Get me with those green eyes, baby, as the lights go down_.” 

“Huh. I have green eyes, too.” 

“Your eyes are blue, dumbass,” Alex reminds him. 

“Oh,” he realizes with a chuckle. Then, “Wait, how much time do you spend staring into my eyes? That’s kinda gay, dude.” 

“I… okay, Reg,” Alex resigns. 

Seriously, how does he know? Obviously, it’s not because of the seventeen years of friendship— wait a minute. That might be it. Never mind. 

~~~ 

Reggie wakes up to Alex gently running a hand through his hair. 

“Morning, sleepyhead.” The vibrations of his voice echo from his chest into Reggie’s ear. “We haven’t done this in a while, huh?” 

Reggie smiles with a slight shake of his head. “I missed this.” He turns over in search of his phone, which seems to have gotten lost between pillows and blankets in the night. “Your bed is warmer than mine.” 

“That’s because you’re here,” Alex says, snaking an arm around his waist, pressing himself against Reggie’s back. The brush of his fingers tickles the bare strip of skin where Reggie’s shirt rides up. He presses a line of chaste kisses starting behind Reggie’s ear and ending at the base of his neck and— _wow_ , Reggie needs to get out of this bed. “What time is it?” 

“Fuck.” He sits up abruptly, gently knocking into Alex. He sends a silent apology in the form of a forehead kiss as he stands. “We have class in half an hour.” 

That gets Alex up, too. “Shit.” 

Reggie pulls off his shirt on the way to his room and ends up changing in record time, coming back to the kitchen to find Alex has done the same, already tying his shoes. They throw on light jackets to combat the brisk morning air, then they’re out the door and ordering coffee to pick up on the way, barely stopping for anything else until they’re in their seats for their music history lecture. 

“Five minutes to spare,” Luke announces as Reggie flops in the seat next to him. “That’s new, especially for you, Alex.” 

“Remind me to tell Julie you cried during _The Bachelorette_ last night.” 

(Luke will say it was Reggie’s suggestion — and, technically, it was — but he only chose it because Alex hasn’t had time to watch the new episode. So. Connect the dots.) 

“It’s not my fault she gave the final rose to the wrong guy,” Luke grumbles, pouting and crossing his arms, but his mood shifts back to normal when he spots Reggie’s new accessory. “Nice hat, Reg.” 

“That’s _my_ hat,” Alex points out. 

Somehow, he didn’t notice Reggie steal his favorite baseball cap — a black one that says _LOVE_ with a rainbow underneath. Reggie bought it for him before Pride last year — as they were leaving, too distracted by checking the time and their coffee order. 

Alex readjusts the brim to face the front in time for Luke to knock it off Reggie’s head. 

Reggie retrieves the hat from the floor, mumbling, “Thought it’d be cute if I stole it.” 

Alex trades him the hat for his coffee and donut — an iced Americano and a Boston cream. Thank goodness Alex knows his go-to order by heart. “Very cute,” he punctuates with a cheek kiss. 

Luke smirks as he nudges Reggie in the side, silently making fun of him for turning completely red because Alex is just being himself and that automatically flusters Reggie. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to come up with a snarky response because their professor chooses that moment to start class. 

* * *

Going home makes Reggie feel warm and fuzzy inside. 

Don’t get him wrong — his and Alex’s apartment is just as much of a home as the Molinas’ house is, but the apartment doesn’t smell like freshly baked cookies or sound like Carlos’s newest video game or feel like the fatherly hugs of Reggie’s dreams. 

Which is exactly what happens when Reggie steps through the door. Ray engulfs him, Julie, Luke, and Alex in a group hug, then individual hugs, followed by Carlos bounding into the room and jumping onto Reggie’s back. 

“Carlos, _mijo_ , give him a minute,” Ray says with a chuckle, failing to untangle himself from Luke to properly hug Julie. 

Reggie strains to adjust to the new weight. “‘S’all good, Ray. Someone’s gotta be able to pick up Carlos and put him to bed—” 

“I’m _seventeen_ , I don’t need to be _put to bed_ —” 

“That’s where you’re _wrong_ , little dude—” 

“ _Dad_ —” 

“ _Ray_ —” 

“Alright, boys, settle down,” Ray says, tugging Carlos’s shirt to pull him off of Reggie’s back. “You two set the table. The rest of you kids, help me finish making dinner.” 

~~~ 

After a meal full of the best food Reggie’s had in months — no offense, Alex — and catching up, Ray seeks out him and Alex. He sits them down on the living room couch while everyone else is doing their own business. 

“ _Mijos_ , I know we do this party every year,” Ray starts, “but I still have to ask—” 

“No,” Reggie answers immediately. “I can’t see them.” 

He knows exactly what question is coming. Ray always invites all of Julie’s friends to the annual Molina holiday party, and in recent years, he and Trevor have teamed up to make it bigger, including those friends _and_ family, filling up the Wilson mansion with celebration, food, and love. 

And, since leaving home, Ray has always asked Alex and Reggie if they want him to invite their parents, too. And every year, the answer has been a resounding _fuck, no_ , although they avoid swearing in front of Ray. 

They both know he offers it out of the goodness of his heart. He’s told them he loves them like his own kids, but still gives them the opportunity to reach out to their families in a safe space. 

Alex just shakes his head and grabs Reggie’s hand. “Not— not yet.” 

Ray kisses both of their foreheads and, god, Reggie missed being home. 

~~~

Holidays are notorious for being disappointing, right? 

At least, that’s the first thought that crosses Reggie’s mind when Trevor tells him that Bobby won’t be showing up. 

“What do you mean he’s not coming?” Reggie demands, already in a sour mood far too early into the night. 

“He’s busy” is Trevor’s excuse. “Said he had something to take care of—” 

“But—” 

“But he might stop by later,” Trevor adds before getting pulled away by one of his employees. 

Reggie pouts and Alex’s arm automatically lands on his shoulder. “Reg—” 

“I just— I _miss_ him.” Reggie hasn’t seen him in forever. Between school and work and life getting in the way, their schedules have been clashing for almost a year, which means they haven’t been in the same _city_ since last year’s holiday party. “He’s my best friend—” 

“I thought _I_ was your best friend,” Alex interrupts. 

“You’re different—” 

“How am I different—” 

“You have to live with me—” 

“I _choose_ to live with you—” 

“That’s not _my_ fault—” 

Reggie is cut off by an unfamiliar hand on his waist, and he almost tenses up, but the person spins him around and he’s face-to-face with— 

“Bobby!” Reggie throws himself into the other boy’s arms, knocking him off balance. 

Somehow, Bobby _doesn’t_ fall over and manages to hug him tighter, like they haven’t seen each other in years — it’s actually been eleven months but, hey, who’s counting? “Hey, gorgeous.” 

“ _Gorgeous_ ,” Reggie scoffs. “What am I, one of your guitars?” 

“You make prettier noises. But I’m sure Alex knows all about that, am I right?” 

Reggie gapes at him because… how the _fuck_ is he supposed to respond to Bobby — out of all the people in the world, it has to be _Bobby_ — making a sex joke about him and his best friend. How. _How?_

Luckily, Alex seems to be in the same state of queer panic — though, for wildly different reasons, Reggie assumes — because he hasn’t figured out how to form words either. 

“Oh my god, I’m _kidding_ ,” Bobby admits, grinning as he knocks Alex’s shoulder with his own. “You guys are too cute.” 

“Very funny, Bobert,” Alex says dryly. “I— shoot.” Alex looks at something on the other side of the room. Reggie follows his eyeline to see Luke and Carlos piling various, tiny desserts onto their plates. “I should go stop them before they eat everything.” 

Reggie catches Alex by the shoulder before he goes. “Save me one of those, uh—” 

“Those cookie things?” 

“ _Yes_.” 

“The star ones?” 

“God, you _get_ me.” 

“Do you want anything else?” 

Reggie presses a quick kiss to his cheek. “Nope. Plus, you can basically read my mind, so…” 

Alex ducks his head to hide a smile, then turns to chase after Luke, who’s already running out to the patio, two plates of dessert in hand, one Carlos on his back. 

“I have a surprise for you,” Bobby says to Reggie once Alex is out of earshot, guiding him away from the party and down the hallway. He lowers his voice to add, “But you can’t tell Alex because, technically, it’s kind of illegal.” 

“What’s— what’s going on?” Reggie asks, stifling a laugh as Bobby pulls him into his bedroom, closing the door behind them. 

“I didn’t want to show you in front of everyone.” 

The two of them have gotten into enough legal trouble for one lifetime. “Should I be worried—” 

“No, _no_. Here.” Bobby opens the photo album on his phone, clicking on the most recent video. 

It’s Reggie’s parents’ house. 

“Why—” 

Bobby shushes him, resting a hand on his back. “Just watch.” 

The video circles around the house, egg splattered at all angles, toilet paper littering the bushes, and spray paint spelling out _asshole_ on the garage in bright red. 

“What the hell are you doing?” a spine-chilling voice shouts on the video before it ends. 

“Was that—” 

Bobby hugs him closer, hooking his chin over Reggie’s shoulder. “Yeah, your dad was _pissed_. And he’ll probably be even worse when he finds out I poked holes in his tires.” 

“ _Bobby_ —” 

“It’s all good. I just have to change so I can’t be identified by my clothes,” Bobby assures him, moving away to strip off his shirt and look for a new one. 

“That can’t be enough. What about the video—” 

“ _Relax_. There’s no evidence that proves I _did_ anything. I could always say I thought it looked cool and wanted to take the video for inspiration for an art piece or something.” 

“Oh, my god—” 

“And your dad’ll say whoever did it was probably your boyfriend, and Alex and I look nothing alike—” 

“We’re not together—” 

“—yet. You’re not together _yet_ ,” Bobby corrects, pulling a dark green T-shirt over his head. 

Reggie hides his face behind his hands, peeking through his fingers when he feels Bobby touch his wrist. “Dude, it’s never—” 

“Reg, you’re a catch, and if he can’t see that, then I’ll egg his house, too.” 

“It’s also _my_ house—” 

“Then you guys better get your shit together because I’ve got a couple dozen in the fridge downstairs.” 

Reggie chews his lip as he shakes his head. _This man_. “You’re the worst.” 

Bobby grins. He can see right through Reggie. “You know you love me.” 

Reggie rolls his eyes but he pulls Bobby in for a hug. “I do. I _do_ , and…” He squeezes Bobby a little tighter, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “Thanks for screwing with my dad.” 

“He deserves it. He deserves _worse_ ,” Bobby says with a sudden gruffness to his voice. 

“Bobby, _don’t_ —” 

“I won’t, but I’m just _saying_ —” 

“Yeah, you’ve done more than enough.” 

Bobby pulls back enough to press his forehead to Reggie’s. “Hey, I know you’re still upset with him, but I’m not gonna do anything to him that’ll make you hate me. So, you don’t have to pick a fight with me, okay?” 

Reggie manages a small nod. 

Bobby moves them to sit on his bed, rubbing his hand up and down Reggie’s back. “What’s bothering you?” 

To reiterate, Bobby can see _right through_ Reggie, somehow always sensing his mood shifts earlier than almost everyone else — including Reggie himself. “I just— I _hate_ hearing his voice.” 

“I know, dude,” Bobby says, resting his hand on Reggie’s arm. “If it makes you feel any better, I was gonna write ‘asshole excuse of a father,’ but I ran out of space after one word.” 

Reggie huffs out a laugh. “It does.” Then, the stupid thing he hasn’t known how to discuss over text, “Can I talk to you about something?” 

“Anything, Reg.” 

“Alex and I… have been pretending to date,” Reggie confesses quietly. “And it hasn’t been _bad_ —”

Bobby _snorts_. “Oh, babe, you’re adorable.” 

“Shut _up_.” 

“No, I— I think it’s cute that you both figured out a new way to dance around your feelings.” 

“Hold on, what do you mean _you both_?” 

Bobby sighs, taking Reggie’s hand with his free one. “I’m gonna tell you something and you’re not allowed to yell at me.” 

Well, _that’s_ a worrying preface. “What—” 

“Reggie—” 

“ _Bobby_ —” 

“Just— please.” 

“Okay,” Reggie gives in. “Let’s hear it.” 

“Alex is in love with you,” Bobby says in one breath. 

Reggie’s brows knit together because… what the hell? 

“He’s never _said_ it,” Bobby continues. “But it is _painfully_ obvious when he looks at you the same way Luke looks at Julie _and_ his guitar.” 

Reggie shakes his head. “Alex doesn’t look at me like that.” 

“You don’t see it because you’re on the receiving end, and that boy _never_ stops staring at you.” 

“He doesn’t—” 

“He _hated_ seeing us kiss,” Bobby points out. 

“No, he didn’t—” 

Bobby’s hand moves to Reggie’s forearm. “So, when I did this tattoo and you dragged him along, and then you kissed me, like, five times, you completely missed the fact that you set his brain on fire?” 

“That—” 

“And how he couldn’t be in the same room with us every time we cuddled during that winter break after you moved into the Molinas’ house?” 

“That wasn’t—” 

“Does he know we hooked up?” 

(It was a one time thing. Okay, maybe a few times, but they didn’t tell _anyone_ and it hasn’t happened in... a few months. He blames Thomas for the recent nature of that last occurrence. 

In Reggie’s defense, they were both inexperienced virgins when they started doing this, and who better to have sex with than your best friend that you trust more than anyone else in the world, besides the guy you actually have a crush on? And Bobby was curious about the hype regarding sex, and Reggie likes to consider himself a helpful friend. 

It was basically a friends-with-benefits situation, but somehow, neither of them caught feelings. And it did nothing to crush Reggie’s crush. So.) 

Reggie clears his throat. Bobby might be onto something, but Reggie refuses to humor his theories. It’s probably just that. Theories. Nothing more. “We should go back downstairs before someone comes looking for us.” 

Bobby sighs but stands, pulling Reggie up with him. “Did I tell you I might be moving to Westwood?” 

“What?” Reggie practically jumps on him to engulf him in a hug. The idea of Bobby living nearby is _amazing_ , No more grueling, hour-long drives — usually longer, as a good portion of them are spent stuck in traffic — which only leaves them too tired to properly enjoy each other’s company. “Finally, you dumbass.” 

“It might just be temp—” 

Reggie cuts him off with a quick peck on the lips. Then another. And then Bobby properly kisses him back. 

They’ve always been platonic — yes, even when they were hooking up. A few years ago, they landed themselves under the mistletoe at one of these parties and they kissed (well, that’s the story they tell anyone curious enough to ask). And then they kept kissing — platonically — because Bobby was an anxious ace who wanted to be more comfortable with physical affection, and Reggie, desperate for any kind of reassurance, gladly offered his services. 

(Again, Reggie is a helpful friend.) 

(And the kissing may have led into the conversation that started their friends-with-benefits nonsense. So. That's its own history.) 

But their friends are used to it. In the beginning, though, they’d get _a lot_ of confused looks, but mostly from Alex. Even now. 

“Hey, guys,” Alex greets in a strangled voice, lightly knocking on the door as he opens it. “Um, Ray wants to get a big family photo, so…” 

Reggie grabs Bobby’s hand, then Alex’s as they meet him in the doorway, and announces, “Well, obviously, you’re both gonna be next to me, right?” 

Alex rolls his eyes but gives him a fond smile. “Yeah, obviously.” 

(Reggie pretends not to notice the _look_ exchanged between his friends as Alex slings an arm over his shoulder.) 

“So, you and Bobby are back together?” Alex quietly asks him once they’ve settled into Ray-approved photo positions. 

“It's all friendly.” 

“The way he was holding you didn’t look very friendly.” 

Reggie pauses. “He wasn’t— it wasn’t _mean_ , right?” 

“Quite the opposite, Reg.” 

_Oh_. “Well, you don’t need to worry your pretty, little head about that, Lex.” Reggie kisses the tip of his nose for good measure just as the camera flashes and captures the moment. 

“Good. I’d hate to share my fake boyfriend with his real boyfriend.” 

“We’re— we’re _not together_ ,” Reggie emphasizes with a phrase he’s probably said a million times regarding Alex _and_ Bobby. “I only have fake-eyes for you.” 

Alex smiles at that, pulling Reggie in for a kiss on the cheek and barely missing the corner of his mouth. He feels his face heat up when Alex smiles _again_ , but this time it’s _softer_ , and _ugh, why is he so pretty_. 

The camera flashes again. 

Reggie highly considers framing today’s photos. 

* * *

**January 2021.**

“My parents want to visit,” Alex announces as he paces back and forth through their entire apartment. 

Reggie misses his next bite of cereal, gracelessly shoving the spoon into his cheek instead of his mouth. “Why?” 

“They want to meet my _girlfriend_.” Alex stops when Reggie sticks an arm out and blocks his path, then he settles on the neighboring barstool. “They saw that picture of me and Julie on my Instagram.” 

Oh, yes. The infamous picture of their friend group, and Julie and Alex just so happen to be leaning their heads on each other. Obviously, it's the most romantic part of the photo, despite Flynn sitting on Carrie’s lap, Luke gazing at Julie like she’s his entire world, and Reggie falling off of Bobby’s lap and onto Alex. Well, those last two are platonic, but that’s the general picture (haha. _Picture_. Good one, Reg). 

“What’d you say?” 

“I told them I’d have to talk to you first, since we’re roommates,” Alex explains slowly. “But I kind of want to see the looks on their faces when they drive two hours just to meet my boyfriend.” 

Reggie almost drops his spoon. “I’m in.” 

“Are you sure?” Alex asks, and Reggie can practically feel the panic as Alex takes his hand. “It’ll be for a week, and they, uh, they weren’t exactly _nice_ when I came out. And we’ll have to share your room, so you won’t get to have your space. And cooking for two more…” 

Reggie hesitates as Alex lists more reasons for him to back out — though some of them are nonsensical. He’s been fine managing his crush when he and Alex have faked their romance for a few minutes, maybe an hour at the most, but this is a whole new level. It’s seven straight (or gay in Alex’s case? And bi in his own?) days of pretending for hours on end, no breaks aside from being in class, the potential chance of _kissing_ Alex… 

Long story short, Reggie is _fucked_. 

“You can say no, Reg,” Alex reminds him. “I think the pride flags and queer books will make them pretty uncomfortable, too.” 

“No, I’ll be fine.” Apparently, saying the words out loud doesn’t do anything to soothe him of the oncoming anxieties, but whatever. He’ll cross that ocean when he gets to it, or however the idiom goes. “Seriously, this is _our_ home. We can be as gay as we want and _they_ have to deal with it.” 

The way Alex beams is what eases his mind. 

~~~ 

**Monday.**

The plan is simple: introduce their relationship with the utmost prudence and subtlety. Alex was quick to remind Reggie that he didn’t care what his parents would think of them, but he _did_ pace around their apartment during the half hour leading up to their arrival. 

The Mercer parents were coming under the guise of hoping Alex “finally” (insert Reggie rolling his eyes) has a girlfriend, and potentially meeting her, but also so they can explore this side of the city. UCLA is a half-hour drive away from Los Feliz (in an alternate universe without traffic, which means it can be around an hour or two hour on a bad day in _this_ universe), and it’s easier to stay at an estranged son’s apartment with his ~~roommate~~ _boyfriend_ instead of renting a hotel room, right? 

Right? 

Wrong. Very wrong. 

The Mercers treat Reggie kindly, as they’ve always done, but there’s an unspoken tension in the air between them and Alex. 

They’ll have to sleep in Alex’s room. Within the first few months of living in their apartment, the boys learned how much cleaner Alex tends to be — not that Reggie is messy, he’s just… less organized — and they agreed his room would double as a guest bedroom when necessary. It didn’t come up often, and some friends preferred sleeping on their couch, but Luke and Julie are its only consistent guests — after Reggie, of course. 

(Can’t blame a guy for wanting to cuddle his best friend as they fall asleep together, right? 

Reggie should stop with the hypotheticals.) 

Which means that Reggie and Alex have to share a bed, something they’ve done countless times, but now they have to act like they’re dating for a good portion of their time outside of the bedroom and… geez, is Reggie living in a fanfiction? What the hell? 

So. Yeah. Casual conversations over coffee with the Mercers on Reggie and Alex’s couch and barstools pulled from the kitchen to the living room area. Only slightly strained. Awkward smiles as they get used to speaking with Alex for the first time in-person in a while. Clutching mugs for emotional support. Small talk about school and jobs and whatnot. 

But, other than that, it actually seems to be going well, for the most part? 

Until Julie calls later that night. 

(Julie is an angel and did absolutely nothing wrong. Do not misinterpret Reggie’s ominous preface. It’s the Mercers that are causing problems and Julie is stuck in the middle of this without even knowing what’s going on. Sorry, Julie.) 

“Hey, Julie—” 

“Tell her I said hi!” Alex calls from the stove. 

“Alex says howdy, darling!” 

“No, I didn’t!” 

Reggie grins as he hears Julie laugh over the speaker. “What’s up?” 

“Are you busy right now?” Julie asks. 

“Uh, Lex and I are cooking dinner with his parents—” 

“Alex’s parents are there?” Julie tone turns serious. “Why?” 

Reggie shrugs, momentarily forgetting that Julie can’t see it. “It’s kind of a long story.” 

“Could you tell me in half an hour?” 

“Why then?” 

“Carrie has rehearsal until then, but Luke’s shift isn’t over for another hour after that, so Carrie, Flynn, and I are gonna walk home together, and we want to be able to call someone while we’re out.” 

Reggie processes her words for a few seconds. “Half an hour?” 

“Yes, Reggie, thank you—” 

“Where are you?” 

Julie pauses. “Um, the music building?” 

“I’ll be there in twenty.” 

“What? No—” 

“Julie, I don’t want you walking alone if I can help it.” 

“I won’t be alone—” 

“I know, you have Flynn and Carrie, but you’re all five feet tall, and I don’t trust a single frat on this campus. I’m walking with you.” 

Julie goes quiet, then, “Thank you.” 

“Of course, Julie. I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

“Love you, Reg!” Flynn’s voice comes from over the phone. 

“You’re on speakerphone, say hi!” Julie tells him. 

“Hey, Flynn, love you, too!” Reggie laughs at the sound of his friends’ voices. “Do you want me to stay on the call until I get there?” 

There’s a brief period of silence, which Reggie guesses is the girls’ private conversation, ending when Julie says, “Yes, please, if you can.” 

“Anything for my gals. I’ll be on my way in a few.” Reggie lowers the phone as he moves to join Alex at the stove. “Hey, Lex—” 

“My sweatshirt’s on your bed. Take it before you freeze to death.” 

Reggie squeezes his shoulder before dropping a quick kiss on it. “You’re a lifesaver, dude.” 

He pulls the sweatshirt on in a beat, his leather jacket over it, and stuffs everything he thinks he needs into his pockets. He plugs his earbuds into his phone so he can talk hands free but… what’s missing? “Keys, phone, wallet,” he mutters to himself — and Julie and Flynn, who get to overhear everything. “Lex?” 

“Student ID?” 

He checks his wallet. “Got it.” 

“Gloves?” 

Reggie tries to say he’ll be fine, it isn’t that cold, but Julie and Flynn shout their protests in his ear, so he has to listen. He finds gloves and one of Luke’s forgotten beanies on the floor of his closet and he’s good to go. 

“Okay, I think that’s—” 

“Nope, still forgetting something.” 

Reggie furrows his brows, mentally recounting his belongings. He _swears_ he has all he needs. He double-checked with Alex, plus Flynn and Julie would’ve said something if— 

Then Alex tugs him forward by his jacket and places a gentle kiss on his cheek. “ _That_ , dumbass.” Then another on his forehead. “Be safe out there.” 

Reggie is… a little stunned, to say the least, — not that _he_ isn’t used to the affection — but his reaction is nothing in comparison to the Mercers, whose eyes shift back and forth between each other and the boys’ display, clearly at a loss for words. 

And Reggie has no clue know what god of chaos chooses to possess him, but the next thing he says is: “Was that supposed to be a goodbye kiss?” 

“Uh, yeah.” 

“I am about to venture into the cold and unforgiving nightlife of L.A. for who knows how long—” 

“An hour, tops,” Flynn interrupts in his ear. 

“—and you barely kiss me goodbye. Me. Your… _me_?” 

Alex rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, but the playful smile gives him away. “Okay, Reg, do your worst.” 

And, well, Reggie isn’t one to back down from a challenge. He curls a hand around Alex’s neck, glancing down at his lips, and waiting until Alex nods to continue. Reggie pulls him down for a _real_ kiss, swiftly deepening it as he parts his lips while grabbing Alex by the waist — which causes Alex to make some kind of noise from the back of his throat, and Reggie definitely plans on hearing _that_ again — only to break it off after a few seconds. 

“Better?” he asks breathlessly. 

Alex narrows his eyes, blushing a shade of beet red that matches the flannel he’s wearing — _this dumbass stole Reggie’s flannel_. “You said you were gonna be subtle.” 

“And _you_ said forever and always.” 

“Reginald, I swear to god, if you start singing Taylor Swift—” 

And what does Reggie do? Ignore Alex. “ _And it rains in your bedroom, everything is wrong—_ ” 

“You’re singing it too fast.” 

“No, I’m singing the original. _You’re_ the weirdo who religiously listens to the piano version—” 

“It’s about _the emotion_ , Reginald—” 

“Well, Alexander, I’d like to listen to a song _without_ crying about Joe Jonas.” 

“It wasn’t about Joe—” 

“It was _definitely_ about Joe—” He jumps as Flynn and Julie call his name out of nowhere and _fuck_. “I should get going,” he says, reassuring an equally-startled Alex with some nervous finger guns and a peck on the cheek before exiting. 

He hums _Forever and Always_ from the beginning, and he’s just about to start the bridge, a few blocks away from their apartment complex, and _that’s_ when it hits him: “Holy fuck, I kissed Alex.” 

“And it only took you three minutes to figure it out!” Flynn cheers. “Congrats, babe.” 

“And we had to _hear it_!” Julie hisses. 

“Yeah! As cute as you guys are, y’all need to keep things PG around us. I already walked in on Jules and Luke—” 

“We were just _kissing_ —” 

“And he had his shirt off!” 

“He basically _always_ has his shirt off!” 

“Luke doesn’t have his shirt off _enough_ ,” Reggie chimes in. 

Flynn makes a gagging noise as Julie scoffs. “Don’t think we’re done with you yet, Reg.” 

“Uh-huh.” He can _hear_ Flynn smirking. “Since when are you and Alex together?” 

Reggie groans, pausing to read a street sign. He knows this route by heart, but the sounds of nearby fraternity _and_ sorority parties throws him off. That, and the question. “It’s… a _story_.” Great description, Reg. “Can it wait ‘till we’re walking so I don’t have to re-explain it to Carrie?” 

“Fine—” 

“But you and Carrie can’t make fun of me.” 

There’s a brief silence. Reggie imagines Julie stifling her laughter as Flynn rolls her eyes. “No promises.” 

…Flynn and Carrie can’t _stop_ making fun of him. Same goes for Julie. But, like, lovingly? 

As he recounts the story — about all their fake-dating drama and how the Mercers came to visit under the impression that they’d meet a girlfriend, even after Alex specifically said that wouldn’t be the case — they joke less (still a lot, but now he _really_ feels the love behind it). 

Then his phone buzzes and the text message is a welcome distraction from the girls’ playful remarks. 

**lex**  
miss you 

**reg**  
miss you too <3  
sorry about the kiss

**lex**  
don’t be   
i mean   
it was fine? 

**reg**  
i didn’t really ask if i could  
and we never talked about it  
like, in general  
also, “fine”?? i’m hurt  
thought i rocked your world  
</3

**lex**  
well i kinda told you to kiss me   
yes. fine. that’s it. 

**reg**  
:(  
so… your parents  
how’d they take it?

“Reggie.” Julie’s voice snaps him back to reality. “Is he okay?” 

“He, uh…” Reggie swallows, checking his phone. Alex hasn’t texted him back. “He didn’t say anything.” 

Julie glances at his phone. His messages with Alex still open. “That looks like a full conversation.” 

“Well, he responded when I was making fun of him, but then I asked about his parents, and he stopped.” 

“He might be doing something,” Julie suggests. “Plus, you’re gonna see him in, like, ten minutes.” 

“Yeah, I know, but—” His phone buzzes and his heart drops. 

**lex**  
come home soon   
please. 

**reg**  
still walking the gals  
but we’re almost to F+C’s  
then J  
then home to you

**lex**   
okay 

“I don’t— I don’t think—” 

Julie’s hand finds his, gently squeezing it and letting him know he doesn’t have to finish that sentence. Flynn and Carrie stop their conversation, sensing the anxiety that radiates as his mind repeats _come home soon please_ on a loop. 

Thankfully, the gals live within a few blocks of each other and his own home. 

~~~ 

“Jesus, Reg, you’re freezing.” 

Reggie shrugs off his leather jacket. “Yeah, because I was just outside.” 

“Yes, but, _no_.” Alex cups his cheek, then pulls him into a warming hug and… _oh_. Maybe he _is_ a bit chilly. 

“I’m _fine_ ,” Reggie insists, trying to stop his shivering before Alex notices. 

“No. Bed, now.” 

Reggie pouts, which certainly doesn’t help his case, because Alex pulls away slightly and stares him down. His voice lowers, despite the cold demeanor. “Reg, I don’t want you getting sick.” 

The inability to refuse Alex hits him in the face more often than not, which means Reggie nods quietly as goes to his room. He strips off his jeans, settling for his boxers and Alex’s hoodie to serve as makeshift pajamas for the night. A minute later, Alex brings him two bowls of the macaroni and cheese — with vegetables hidden in so Reggie doesn’t have to know he’s eating them — that he and his mom were making, setting them down on Reggie’s nightstand. 

Reggie knows one bowl is for him, and he’s definitely not hungry enough for two, so… “Did you not eat dinner yet?” 

“I was waiting for you.” 

“Alex—” 

He shrugs. His next words come out casually, but there’s a strain behind it. “I didn’t want to eat alone.” 

“What about…” Reggie trails off, turning back to check the door, which Alex closed after entry. 

“They went to get something from outside, and when they came back, they went straight into my room and locked the door, and—” Alex’s voice drops to a whisper. “We’re gonna have a lot of leftovers.” 

“Well,” Reggie says, stepping forward to cup Alex’s face in his hands, “good thing we have a lot of friends who love us, love _you_ , and your cooking.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, Lex.” 

Alex pulls him into a tight hug, desperate for the love Reggie gives him freely, just because he exists. Reggie hums, running his fingers through the hair on the back of Alex’s head. 

“Is that _seven_?” 

Reggie nods into his shoulder. “I know you love the arpeggios.” 

“I do.” 

“I can’t sing those right now, though.” 

“That’s okay.” 

Reggie presses a kiss to his shirt — _his_ shirt. “This is _my_ flannel.” 

“I— yeah.” 

Then another kiss. “Looks nice on you.” 

“That’s why I stole it.” 

Reggie’s gasp of offense is only _slightly_ exaggerted. “You thief!” 

“Says you.” Alex slips a hand beneath the fabric of his own hoodie, and Reggie’s thin, white t-shirt becomes the only barrier between Alex’s touch and the small of his back. “This makes you look tiny.” 

“ _Tiny_?” The word comes out as a squeak Reggie isn’t particularly proud of, but he keeps talking as he pulls back, despite the heat in his cheeks. “I’m only, like, two inches shorter than you, dude!” 

A playful smile dances on Alex’s lips as he uses his free hand — not the one now tracing circles on his back that Reggie is painfully aware of — to trail down Reggie’s arm, then tugs the cuff of the sleeve down to cover his fingertips. “You’re swimming in this, babe.” 

Reggie quirks an eyebrow. “Babe?” 

“You’re swimming in this, _dumbass_ ,” Alex corrects. 

Damn. He kind of liked that pet name. “Thanks, _babe_.” 

Alex’s cheeks turn pink and Reggie mentally stores this information for later, pretending not to notice as he jumps into bed and grabs a bowl of macaroni, nudging Alex with his foot as a way of telling him to join. 

* * *

**Tuesday.**

Reggie doesn’t understand why his day is awful. It just _is_. 

He wakes up on time. All of his homework is done, all of his books are in his backpack, bass in its case, and he packed his lunch the night before so he could throw it in with everything else. He eats his cereal and Alex hands him a to-go mug of coffee on his way out, like normal, and adds a kiss on the cheek because they have _an audience_. 

As soon as he gets to his 8 a.m. biology lecture, that’s another story. 

He should’ve taken his science credits earlier, but he put it off until senior year, and now he’s stuck in a class of seniors in the same boat and freshmen who don’t shut up. 

Someone is in his usual seat, which sends him searching for a new one all the way to the third row from the back. Out of thirty rows. So now he can’t see the board. Yikes. 

The students around him are whispering a bit too loudly or watching Netflix instead of taking notes, so he can barely hear the professor — yet another reason he sits in the front row. Seriously, who steals a front row seat if the majority of his classmates don’t seem to care? Long story short, he could’ve skipped this class. 

But he stays because he made a commitment. He follows along to the Powerpoint the professor uploaded to the classroom webpage, adding more questions than usual to his notebook — he likes taking physical notes. Less distractions. Apparently his classmates think that’s weird, but whatever. 

Most of the day passes without incident. He goes to his second class, eats lunch in the grass outside the music building, then goes to his third class — he shouldn’t have signed up for three classes in one day, but it’s a bit too late to change that. 

After, it’s off to work at the music store. He’s been working retail and teaching lessons since freshmen year — Reggie can play piano, banjo, and two types of guitar. Gotta make a living before the band takes off — but thankfully, he only has his usual four students tonight. 

Actually, make that two. His first and third kids on the schedule texted him to cancel, then his fourth shows up half an hour late without warning. Number two — electric guitarist who keeps asking about future ukulele lessons, despite knowing that he doesn’t play — is on time and reliable, though. So, thank goodness for that kid. 

But he has a migraine by the time number four — a beginner banjoist that consistently forgets about the high G-string — is done. Which leads to a painfully loud walk home, followed by some of his neighbors arguing over who knows what, and he’s thankful he forgot to introduce himself and Alex when they first moved into the building. 

Speaking of Alex, as wonderful as he is, his cooking is adding to the noise clouding Reggie’s head. “You okay, Reg?” he asks as soon as Reggie locks the front door. 

“I’m good, Lex,” he hums, “just tired.” 

“Bad day?” 

Reggie nods. “I think I’m gonna turn in for the night.” All he wants to do is curl up in his bed and _not_ be awake anymore. 

“Do you want something to eat?” 

“It’s fine, I picked up food on the way.” 

Reggie knows how suspicious he sounds because he _loves_ Alex’s cooking, but Alex doesn’t comment on it. He pulls Reggie into a hug and kisses his forehead, saying, “Let me know if you want anything.” 

The next thing Reggie knows, he’s back in his room, under his blanket, and cuddling his pillow. 

~~~ 

Reggie doesn’t remember the nightmare, but he _does_ remember waking up alone, even though Alex is supposed to be sleeping next to him. 

His lamp is off, but his door is half-open, letting in light from the kitchen where he can clearly see Alex sitting at a barstool with his homework spread across the counter. Reggie pulls his blanket over his shoulders to cover himself like a cloak, then finds himself hugging Alex from behind, effectively wrapping the blanket around him, too. 

“Good morning,” Alex says quietly, spinning on his seat to tug Reggie into a proper hug. “How was your nap?” 

Reggie shrugs, then mumbles, “Come to bed.” 

“I’m almost done—” 

“It’s late.” The clock on the microwave reads 2:19 a. m., which means Alex’s class is in less than six hours, and if he doesn’t sleep now, he’ll be extra grumpy in the morning. “I miss you.” 

“Reg—” 

“Please.” 

Apparently, that’s enough of an argument to convince Alex to abandon his unfinished homework. Not that Reggie is complaining, though. 

* * *

**Wednesday.**

Reggie is about to pack his bass after the end of a rescheduled lesson — thank you, slightly responsible kid-number-three from Tuesday — when he feels his phone buzz with the notification of _Five missed calls from: lex_. 

He almost drops his phone, his bass, his sheet music, _everything_ in the process of returning the call, anxiety bubbling in the pit of his stomach with each ring. 

“Reg?” Alex’s soft voice comes through the phone. 

“Hey, talk to me, love.” 

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I— I forgot what time you said your lesson ended—” 

“It’s okay, Lex. We just finished.” Reggie hugs the head of his bass to his chest, the tuning pegs pressing into his stomach uncomfortably. “Did— what’s going on?” 

“I’m sorry—” 

Reggie hushes him. “It’s okay. It’s just me, Lex. You know the drill. Just… say anything.” 

“I, um, you— you know Carlos texted me today?” 

“He did?’ Reggie asks, quickly putting his bass into its case as an idea pops into his head. “How is he?” 

“Good. He’s— he’s good, he said his— his ‘Carlos senses’ were going off.” 

“His ‘Carlos senses?’ Like, for ghostbusting?” 

“Yeah, they apply to you, too, apparently.” Alex chuckles. “He told me to check up on you.” 

“Really? Why?” 

“He thought you were having a bad day. I guess he’s getting rusty.” 

“He was only a little late, but _tell me_ you made fun of him,” Reggie laughs as he locks the practice room door, returning the key to the girl working at the counter before clocking out and leaving the store. 

“Of course I did, but now he insists on moving in with us.” 

“Oh, sure. A teenager running away to move in with the coolest adult in his life. Haven’t heard that story before.” 

“Baby, we both know Flynn is the coolest adult in Carlos’s life.” 

Okay, Reggie is _never_ going to get used to Alex calling him _baby_ so casually. “Then I’m claiming second place.” 

“Julie.” 

“Fine. Third.” 

“Carrie?” 

“Alright, fourth.” 

“Me.” 

Reggie scoffs. “You’re cute.” 

“And you’re in fifth place.” 

“I can hear you smiling, asshole.” Reggie pauses outside of a store, narrowly avoiding a biker that didn’t anticipate his stop. “Hey, I, um, I have to run in somewhere for, like, a minute. Are you gonna be okay if I hang up?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I should be fine now." Alex _does_ sound a bit calmer than before. "You’ll be home soon, right?” 

“Yeah, I’m a few minutes away,” Reggie assures him, then, “I can call you as soon as I’m done, okay?” 

There’s a silence, and Reggie thinks Alex is shaking his head because his next words are, “No, I’ll be fine. Just— I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

And with that, Reggie makes quick work of his pitstop, then he’s back on the ~~road~~ sidewalk home, wasting no time as he speed-walks the rest of the way. 

He’s not surprised when he unlocks the front door and is immediately greeted by Alex, who lifts his eyebrows questioningly at the sight of Reggie’s surprise. 

“Is this…?” 

“From our cafe,” Reggie says, placing the drink holder on the counter as Alex closes the door. “Because…” 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

**Flashback: September 2017: college, freshmen year.**

In their first year of college, Reggie and Alex discovered a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop — _Kenny’s Cafe_. Its walls were lined with bookshelves and vinyls, its music came from a record player hooked up to the speaker system, and Reggie caught sight of at least three tiny pride flags sprinkled in among the decor. 

Reggie had ordered for both of them — hot chocolate because it was the safest option in a new place, and also because it was Alex’s go-to — while Alex browsed the shelves until his eyes landed on— 

“Is that _Gay L.A._?” a barista with the name tag Willie called from behind the cash register. Sure enough, Alex held said book, scanning the rest of the title of _A History of Sexual Outlaws, Power Politics, and Lipstick Lesbians_. “Dude, you gotta read it!” 

And without Alex even needing to ask, Reggie paid for the book along with their drinks. 

“Reg, you didn’t have to—” 

“Maybe I wanna read it, too, okay?” 

Alex huffed, feigning annoyance, but he couldn’t hide his joy as he threw an arm over Reggie’s shoulders. “Thank you,” he mumbled into Reggie’s hair. 

Reggie hummed against him, slightly swaying to the low sound of the music when he perked up, almost knocking Alex back at the sudden movement, now with the _greatest_ idea: “We should dance.” 

_“I wanna come home to you, but home is just a room full of my safest sounds.”_

“What?” 

“You _love_ dancing—” 

“Not in public!” 

“There’s no one here except us and the barista.” Reggie set the book down on the closest table, reaching his hands out and wiggling his fingers as a way to convince his friend. “Please, Lex? One song?” 

Alex considered the offer for a moment. “Just one song?” 

“Yes, and then I’ll shut up about it,” Reggie agreed, then quickly added, “for today.” 

Alex rolled his eyes and gave in. “Fine.” But he didn’t take Reggie’s hands. 

“Alex.” 

“This is a slow song.” 

“Then we can _slow dance_ ,” Reggie suggested. “Maybe we’ll get a fast song next time.” 

“Next time?” Alex squeaked, but Reggie ignored his comment in favor of gently tugging his hands. 

_“I wanna hold hands with you, but that’s all I wanna do right now.”_

This time, Alex didn’t hesitate. Instead, he followed Reggie’s lead and put one hand in his, the other on his waist, and Reggie brought them up to tempo. “You always dance with me in our kitchen.” 

“That’s different. We’re in public, and people might say shit—” 

“And I won’t let them,” Reggie promised softly, just loud enough for the two of them to hear. “Besides, I think we’ll be okay here.” 

Alex’s eyes scan his face. “Are you sure?” 

Reggie chuckled. “The first book you picked up is about gay history. We’re dancing to Troye Sivan. And I’ve seen—” He recounted the number of flags he’d spotted upon entry, plus the ones visible from where they were. “—at least twelve pride flags. It’s okay.” 

“Okay.” Alex relaxed, burying his face in the crook of Reggie’s neck, and Reggie felt him smile. “Thanks, Reg.” 

_“So come over now and talk me down.”_

The barista didn’t call their order until the song changed to the next on the album — which Reggie was _very_ grateful for — and they decided to stay a bit longer, since their classes were done for the day and they had a new book to read. 

Reggie flopped onto a cushy armchair — which was even cozier than it looked — near the front of the cafe. Alex, who seemed to have forgotten the definition of personal space — not that Reggie was complaining — joined him on the same chair, moving Reggie’s legs and laying them over his lap. 

“I feel like a king in this chair,” Reggie announced, taking a sip of his drink. _Wow, that’s good_. 

“Okay, _your highness_ ,” Alex joked, nudging him in the side. “Do you want to read first or should I?” 

“Well, since you’re offering…” Reggie sent him an expectant look and Alex took it as a sign that he would be the reader. 

The lull of Alex’s voice paired with an underscore of Troye Sivan’s _COOL_ gave Reggie time to fully admire the cafe. The chalkboard with drink names and prices was decorated with doodles, most likely done by the employees. He found three more pride flags, mentally noting the various genders and sexualities represented throughout the cafe, rather than just a multitude of rainbows. More queer books, along with some about race, feminism, mental health, and young adult fiction — specifically, everything published by Rick Riordan. Abstract paintings along the walls, framed photographs of scenery and people, and paint splattered on the ceiling and floor. 

What stood out the most were the stained glass windows above the entryway. A multitude of colors melted into each other, its beauty accentuated by the beams of sunlight streaming through and onto Alex’s face, illuminating him in shades of pinks, purples, reds, and blues, and Reggie quickly learned which work of cafe art was his favorite. 

It was too good of a moment to let pass, so Reggie pulled out his phone, getting a few discreet photos of the scene. He didn’t realize he had zoned out in the process of staring and taking pictures until he heard the beginning chords of _HEAVEN_ and Alex waved a hand in front of his face. 

“Uh, what are you doing?” 

Reggie glanced between Alex and his phone. “It was— you— uh—” _The sunlight shining through the stained glass made you look like a masterpiece_. “Pretty,” Reggie decided, handing his phone over and letting that speak for itself. 

“Wow” was all Alex said in response, swiping through the pictures. 

“Sorry.” 

“No, Reg, these are— wow.” 

“You— do you like them?” 

“Yeah, can you send me these?” 

Reggie did, and then tried to take a few more secret shots, but now that Alex knew, he kept posing — _“I’m not posing!”_ — which made them less candid than he wanted. But then Reggie caught Alex mid-laugh, looking at him over the camera, and he decided _that_ was the best picture. 

(And maybe he posted it on Instagram. And made it his lock screen. And considered framing it.) 

From then on, it became _their_ place. Alex didn’t bring any of his boyfriends, Reggie didn’t bring his partners, neither of them brought their friends. Sure, they mentioned it to other people, but they always ended up bringing each other and no one else. 

They _did_ manage to dance to a fast song… after three more visits of slow dancing. They explored the menu, ultimately trying each drink and pastry at least once. They knew the baristas and the baristas knew them. Reggie didn’t realize how much he had wanted to be a regular customer at any place until the manager and owner — Kenny himself! — personally said hello. 

It was… nice. 

Though Reggie had lived in L.A. his whole life, he never felt like he had a place there until his friends drilled the fact into him, but the idea finally cemented in his brain because of a single local coffee shop. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“…They’re the only place that makes hot chocolate with milk,” Alex finishes. 

“Like everyone should.” 

“What’d they say when they saw you alone?” 

“They asked where you were, I told them you were having a bad day, Willie called me the best boyfriend ever…” Reggie shrugs like it’s completely casual that the employees of a cafe — where he and Alex are _regulars_ — think they’re dating, and neither of them have bothered to make the correction. 

Alex laughs, ignoring his mom’s frown, and pressing a kiss to Reggie’s cheek. “You are.” Then his forehead. “Thank you.” Alex picks up one of the cups to find space-themed doodles surrounding a squiggly bubble with the words _Feel better soon, hot dog! —W_ written inside. He holds it up for Reggie to read and they can’t help but share another laugh. 

“I swear I didn’t tell Willie to put that.” 

“Why does he only call _me_ ‘hot dog?’” Alex grumbles. “You and Luke got food poisoning, too.” 

“Yeah, but you’re cuter when you blush.” 

Alex rolls his eyes. “I am _not_.” 

“Keep telling yourself that,” Reggie says, patting his shoulder. That’s when he remembers, “We have to dance.” 

“What?” 

“We always dance when we’re there, but I was the only one who went today, and we have to keep the tradition going.” 

Alex gives in easily, and Reggie suspects that has something to do with the fact that they have a different audience than usual. “I choose the music.” 

Reggie holds his hands out as Alex queues their Spotify playlist — which Reggie _totally_ didn’t create with the idea that they could slow dance to any of its songs. “Taylor Swift?” he realizes at the initial lyrics. 

_“We could leave the Christmas lights up ‘til January / And this is our place, we make the rules.”_

“She works for any mood.” 

“I’m not complaining—” 

“But you’re judging—” 

“I don’t judge people, _you_ do—” 

“Reggie,” Alex stops him. “Just sway with me.” 

And he does, pulling Alex closer and humming along in harmony as Alex sings softly into his ear. 

_“Can I go where you go? / Can we always be this close?”_

Reggie hums a counter-melody through the chorus, making Alex chuckle when he hears it. “Do you even know the words?” 

Reggie shrugs with one shoulder. “I like hearing you sing it.” 

“You’re sweet,” Alex says, spinning him away. “But then I can’t hear _you_ sing.” 

_“I’ve loved you three summers now, honey, but I want ‘em all.”_

Reggie attempts to twirl Alex, laughing as they both deem him unsuccessful when he bumps Alex’s head with his elbow. In his defense, he’s trying to think of a comeback, and the only thing that comes out of his mouth is _You’re such a sap, Mercer_. 

Alex stays quiet, repositioning them so Reggie’s hand is on his waist — and _not_ endangering his head — and his own hand shifts to Reggie’s shoulder, fidgeting with the collar of his leather jacket. 

“Lex?” Reggie pokes his cheek with their clasped hands. 

Alex smiles in response, pressing their cheeks together, then resting his forehead on Reggie’s shoulder. 

So, naturally, Reggie serenades him with the bridge, mouthing half of it against Alex’s shoulder. 

“I thought you said you didn’t know the words,” Alex mumbles, his breath tickling Reggie’s neck. 

“I didn’t say that. I said I liked hearing _you_ sing it,” Reggie points out. “And you’re not singing, which means I have to pick up the slack.” 

When Alex laughs, the vibrations flutter through Reggie’s chest until he’s laughing, too, holding this wonderful boy that wants to dance with _him_ and sing along to Taylor Swift and let him forget the outside world. 

But they can’t forget. 

Because Mr. Mercer chooses that moment to leave Alex’s room and stare at them like they’re the cause of everything wrong in the universe. Which means Alex pulls away before the song finishes, closing Spotify in a haste ( _“Darling, you’re my—”_ ), and taking his phone with him as he hides in Reggie’s room. 

And when Reggie follows him, they don’t speak. They sit on opposite sides of his bed as they work on homework until Mrs. Mercer knocks and tells them that she and Mr. Mercer are done with dinner. 

~~~ 

“He sings to you.” 

Reggie was almost finished cleaning up, Alex already in bed, and he was about to start the dishwasher when Mrs. Mercer appears. Instead of greeting him, she just says _that_. 

“He sings to me all the time,” Reggie speaks slowly, in case Mrs. Mercer is setting him up for some sort of mind game. He’s known her long enough to grow numb to the sting of her mild, backhanded comments, but they haven’t truly _spoken_ in years. Her habits have turned cloudy in his head. 

“He didn’t sing the year before he moved out.” 

That’s… wrong? He and Alex moved here as soon as they graduated high school. Reggie vividly remembers senior year, he remembers Alex by his side, he remembers Alex singing to him as they fell asleep in the Molinas’ spare bedroom— 

“Oh,” Reggie says instead. This is a conversation he should be having with Alex, not his mother. “I’ll, um, I’ll talk to him.” 

Mrs. Mercer nods, giving him a sharp _Goodnight_ before turning away and shutting Alex’s bedroom door behind her. 

That was weird… Reggie tries shaking off the feeling as finishes what he was doing. 

By the time Reggie joins him in bed, Alex is sound asleep, the blanket steadily rising and falling with his breathing. He moves as quietly as possible, though the creak of the bed frame works against him, until he settles into a comfortable position, facing away from Alex… and he forgot to close the door. So, he does it all again, only to wake Alex in the process. 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine, Reg. Couldn’t sleep anyway.” 

“You sure?” 

Alex nods, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he sits up. “Did— was my mom talking to you, or did I dream that?” 

“Yeah, she, um, she told me she hasn’t heard you sing in a while.” 

“Oh.” 

Reggie hesitates. “Did you just, like, not sing at home senior year?” 

“They didn’t talk to me senior year,” Alex says, the bitterness of his tone matching that of his mother's. 

“What?” 

“I came out to them and they stopped talking to me.” 

Reggie puts a hand on his shoulder. “Lex, why didn’t you tell me this before?” 

“It never came up.” Alex brushes it off like a general fact and not as a stupidly important part of his life. 

How did Reggie completely miss this? “You basically moved into the Molinas’ with me — because of _them_ — and it never came up? And you’re okay with them staying in our home? Where we _live_?” 

“I’m sorry—” 

“Alex, don’t. Just—” Reggie cups his cheek, finally getting Alex to meet his eyes. “Talk to me. I’m right here.” 

Alex shrugs. “I don’t know what else to say. I came out, they ignored me, I returned the favor. My mom makes it sound like a tragic thing, like _I_ stopped singing around them on purpose, but _they_ were the ones who shut _me_ out.” 

Even in the dark, Reggie spots Alex’s eyes shining with unshed tears. He grabs a few tissues from the box on his nightstand, handing some to Alex, who immediately balls them up in his fist. “I’m their fucking kid! I didn’t need to work two jobs during the school year, then three in the summer to pay for everything, even with Ray helping both of us _and_ paying Julie’s tuition. I needed my parents to stop looking at me like some kind of fucking _stranger_ every time I went home!” 

“And now they’re here,” Reggie says quietly. 

“Yeah. It took them _years_ to reach out and start talking to me like I’m their son or something, and then they _still_ have the nerve to ask if I’m dating any girls. Like, why bother making the effort if they’re not even gonna fucking _try_?” 

“Alex—” 

“Shit, Reg, I’m sorry,” Alex whispers, immediately correcting his volume. Reggie barely noticed it, but now that Alex is apologizing, he’s painfully aware of his own instinctive trembling. “I’m not mad at you, I promise. I love you.” He holds his arms open, and Reggie quickly accepts the hug. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s _okay_ , Lex.” 

“I’m—” Alex shudders against him, choking back soft sobs, and Reggie practically climbs into his lap to pull him closer, stroking his hair, and refusing to loosen his grip, even after the crying subsides. 

“It’s not your fault, Lex, okay?” Reggie whispers, his throat straining as he forces himself not to cry. He can’t. He has to stay strong. For Alex. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m here. I’m _here_ , love, and I’m not going anywhere.” 

Alex clings to him, slowing his own breathing with a muttering of staggered numbers lost in Reggie’s shirt. Reggie hums a quiet melody, threading his fingers through Alex’s hair and gently kissing his forehead until Alex stops sniffling. 

“Thanks, Reg.” His voice comes out as a croak and Reggie’s heart breaks. “Can— can we sleep? I’m really tired.” 

“Of course, Lex.” 

Reggie shifts to lay down and Alex curls up against his chest, resting his head over Reggie’s heart. He wraps his arms around Alex again, pressing a long kiss to the top of his head, and almost misses his next words. 

“Queen, right?” 

“Hmm?” 

“ _Love of My Life_?” 

“ _Don’t leave me_ ,” Reggie sings the next lyric, trailing his fingers along Alex’s arm. “‘Cause of the arpeggios, you know?” 

Alex nods silently, fidgeting with the hem of Reggie’s shirt. 

Reggie considers staying quiet and allowing Alex to peacefully drift off to the rhythm of his heart, but, since leaving his parents, he’s never had much of a reason to stay quiet anymore. “Hey, Alex?” 

“Hmm?” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you, too,” Alex whispers, then hugs him just a bit tighter. 

Home is being held by Alex. Home is holding Alex. 

* * *

**Thursday.**

“What are these colors for?” 

Reggie had been cleaning up breakfast dishes and he thought Mr. Mercer had gone to the grocery store with Alex and his mom, but apparently, he was wrong. Instead, Mr. Mercer peers at one of the photos sticking on the fridge. It’s the one of their friend group at Pride from the previous summer. 

“They’re pride flags,” Reggie says, not sure how to approach this conversation. 

Mr. Mercer nods, considering Reggie’s words in his head. Then he points to where Reggie smiles in the photo, cheeks covered in face paint, and asks, “What’s that one?” 

“It’s the bisexual flag,” Reggie explains. “It means I’m attracted to more than one gender.” 

“Oh, okay.” 

…what the fuck? 

Did he just… come out to Alex’s dad… _and_ get a neutral response? 

What makes matters worse (better?) is that Mr. Mercer keeps asking questions. He seems genuinely interested in learning about this, and Alex isn’t around to see it. 

But Reggie does what any good boyfriend would do and continues explaining all the pride flags and their meanings to a curious Mr. Mercer. 

The conversation develops when Mr. Mercer points out how Julie and Reggie both have the bisexual flag on their faces, but Julie has a different flag on one cheek, and how that flag matches a few other people — Nick, Willie, Bobby, and Luke — and then Reggie explains asexuality. Then he goes into the difference between sexual and romantic attraction, and how some people, like Nick, who sports the aromantic flag as well, aren’t attracted to others in either way. Then he talks about the pansexual flag for Luke and Bobby, the nonbinary flag for Willie, the lesbian flag for Flynn and Carrie, and the gay flag for Alex. 

Then Mr. Mercer asks about another photo — Ray Molina wearing a shirt that reads _FREE DAD HUGS_ , his arms around Julie, Reggie, and Carlos (who wears his own ally shirt of _I Love My LGBT+ Sibling_ ). 

Reggie’s glare goes unnoticed because Mr. Mercer doesn’t take his eyes off either photo. He knows he’ll never get this type of half-assed reconciliation with his own parents, but that doesn’t stop his anger from quietly burning. Here’s Mr. Mercer, learning about all things queer from his son’s boyfriend, who he hadn’t even talked to — despite spending the week in his apartment — until today. 

“There’s this huge group of parents who, like, hug anyone watching the parade that wants a hug, and maybe they just want a hug for fun, or maybe they didn’t get a hug from their own parents when they came out.” 

_You would know_ , Reggie can’t help but think, though he won’t say it out loud because it might be counterproductive to… whatever _this_ is. 

Ray had made sure he hugged every person in their friend group like they were his own kid — and they were, since he practically adopted all of them. He kissed foreheads and left them all with the words _mi familia_ before running a full block to catch up with the rest of the _Free Parent Hugs_ group. 

A nearby photographer had captured the shot of Ray kissing Julie’s forehead, and Reggie knows for a _fact_ that the picture is on display at the Molina house. 

Reggie softens every time he looks at it, which means his glare quickly fades. “It’s my favorite picture.” 

“What about the one in Alex’s room?” 

…what? 

Reggie avoids going into Alex’s room when he isn’t home, — despite spending a good portion of his day in there when Alex _is_ home, he respects the dude’s privacy when they’re apart — but his curiosity gets the better of him as Mr. Mercer leads the way and hands him a framed photo from Alex’s desk. 

Oh. How has he not noticed this until now? 

Reggie smiles at the memory. 

Ray took this picture of him and Alex after the parade. 

Alex had one arm around his shoulders and a hand on his waist while Reggie held himself up with his arms slung over Alex’s neck. And Alex was kissing his cheek. And Reggie couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day. 

The rain had just begun to pour, which meant their face paint was half-melted down their cheeks, but that just made the photo so much more _real_. 

Reggie should’ve kissed Alex that day. 

He _should’ve_ but he _didn’t_ because he’s _stupid_. 

Because, when Alex pulled away, he had pink, purple, and blue all over his lips and Reggie burst out laughing. Instead of doing the smart thing and going for the lips, Reggie kissed his cheek, too, smearing a rainbow on himself, and then they were matching, wearing face paint where it shouldn’t be. 

“Was that when you two…” Mr. Mercer trails off, but Reggie knows exactly where he’s going. 

He shakes his head. “I was finally going to ask him out after thinking about it for _so long_ , and I kept putting it off, but this guy asked him out the next day, this six-foot-two model with perfect hair and perfect teeth and perfect _everything_ , and he just… swept Alex off his feet.” 

“What happened to him?” 

“He…” Reggie runs a hand through his hair, the word _No_ echoing in his brain. “I shouldn’t be telling you this. You’ll have to ask Alex.” 

“Okay.” 

“Which means you’ll have to _talk_ to him.” Whatever had started burning in his stomach at the beginning of their conversation is suddenly a raging fire. Fuck his worrying about being counterproductive. “I know you and Mrs. Mercer have had trouble with that.” 

“Excuse you?” 

“I didn’t find out that you guys stopped talking to him when we were back in high school until _yesterday_ ,” Reggie spits. “We tell each other _everything_ , but this never came up because _you_ didn’t bother making an effort until we were this far into college.” 

“It’s not _our_ fault. _He_ was the one that changed—” 

“He didn’t _change_! He’s always been gay. He waited so long to tell you because he was afraid you’d react badly, _and then you did_.” 

“We have been _trying_ —” 

“Well, then try harder! I _know_ you want to, otherwise you wouldn’t have come here in the first place, or talked to me about pride—” 

“Then we shouldn’t have come at all,” Mr. Mercer spits. 

Reggie freezes. “No. _No_. You are _not_ going to leave him _again_. _You_ made the mistake and _you_ are going to fix it.” 

“We didn’t make any _mistake_ —” 

“You ignored your son because he’s gay! You might as well have kicked him out of the house, but you made it _worse_ because you let him stay and you didn’t acknowledge his existence.” 

“We didn't have to kick him out because _he left_ , and we didn’t make him gay—” 

“You’re right! You didn’t! He’s always been gay!” 

“Reginald—” 

“You have the chance to make things right with him! I know he wants his parents back and, if I had the choice, I’d want mine to accept me in a heartbeat.” Reggie doesn’t realize he’d been screaming his throat raw until he stops. He softens, for his own sake, and maybe so Mr. Mercer will get this in his head. “Please, just…” 

But his voice dies in his throat. Mr. Mercer looks even _more_ furious than before, shaking his head, putting his hands on Reggie’s shoulders— 

“Get the hell out.” 

Reggie’s head snaps to the front door. Alex drops a bag of groceries on the counter, quickly moving in front of Reggie and shoving Mr. Mercer away. 

“Alexander— 

“Don’t _ever_ touch him,” Alex snaps, furiously pointing toward the door. “Get out of my apartment.” 

“You’re kicking _me_ out?” 

“You can come back after you’ve cleared your head,” Alex demands, crossing his arms. Reggie forgot how much taller Alex is than his dad and how his height makes him that much scarier when he’s upset. He hasn’t seen Alex this pissed off in… oh, he’s _never_ seen Alex like this. “ _And_ when you’re ready to apologize to my boyfriend.” 

“I am a _grown man_ —” 

“Which means you’re fully capable of apologizing, but for now, _get out_.” 

Mr. Mercer gives him one final look before storming past Alex and out the door, slamming it on his way. 

Then Alex turns to Reggie, a complete shift in _everything_. He softens his voice and cups Reggie’s face, wiping away stray tears he didn’t realize had fallen. “Oh, god, did he hurt you?” Alex whispers. 

Reggie shakes his head. “No, he… it’s my fault—” 

“No, Reg, it isn’t—” 

“It _is_. I— I got mad a— and I yelled at him for— what you said ye— last night—” 

“Then he deserved it, okay? Come here.” Alex holds his arms open and Reggie doesn’t realize how much he needed the hug until he melts into it. “Thank you for trying.” 

“I’m sorry—” 

“It’s okay, Reg.” 

Reggie gives him a shaky nod. Wait, fuck, is he shaking? “He tried, Lex. He want— wanted to learn and I got— got mad when he— for you— I’m sorry—” 

Alex hushes him, pulling him closer and stroking his hair as he sways them side-to-side, whispering sweet reassurances in his ear. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” 

~~~ 

They had been watching Netflix after dinner, Alex’s laptop balanced on their legs, cuddling on Reggie’s bed, when Mr. Mercer makes his reappearance for the first time in hours. 

_Hours_. 

Seriously, dude? 

“Alexander.” 

Alex pulls Reggie closer and wordlessly looks up at his father. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Okay” is all Alex says. 

His dad _definitely_ doesn’t like the response, and Reggie guesses he strains himself trying not to shout, “Okay?” 

“He doesn’t need to accept your half-assed apology,” Reggie interrupts, surprising all of them, including himself, “especially since you don’t deserve his forgiveness.” 

Mr. Mercer takes a deep breath. “I’d like to apologize to you, too, Reginald.” 

Okay, and…? 

And nothing else. 

Reggie feels every part of his body tense until Alex squeezes his bicep. He props his chin up on Alex’s shoulder, choosing to ignore Mr. Mercer’s statement — which was even less of an apology than what he said to Alex — in favor of asking, “Can we rewatch _Into the Spider-Verse_ next?” 

Alex smiles, planting a kiss on his nose. “Anything you want, Reg.” And then they get back to their movie. 

He doesn’t even notice when Mr. Mercer leaves until Alex kisses his forehead and whispers, “You know I love you so much, right?” 

“I love you, too, Lex.” 

“Thank you for defending me. I feel like I probably would’ve just let him walk all over me.” 

“Lex, you— no.” Reggie sits up, pulling Alex to his chest. “You— you’re so _good_ and you deserve better and—” He kisses the top of Alex’s head too many times to be considered platonic. 

Alex chuckles. “Reg—” 

“Just shush and let me hold you.” 

Alex hums against him as they rewind the movie — which they may or may not have forgotten to pause when Mr. Mercer came in and just put it on mute instead. 

Alex falls asleep, like, ten minutes later, which shouldn’t surprise Reggie at this point, but it still does. He pauses the movie and leaves the laptop on his legs — he can’t really get up with Alex on top of him, huh? — and lets himself drift off, too. 

He has no clue how long it takes until Alex wakes up — and Reggie in the process — and moves his laptop to Reggie’s desk. He comes back with water and turns off the lights, climbing into bed and wrapping himself around Reggie and kissing the back of his neck with a soft _Goodnight_. 

Maybe they’re not as platonic as Reggie has been letting himself believe. 

Maybe they’re realistic fake-boyfriends because… 

No. 

Reggie shakes the thought away. 

Alex kisses between his shoulder blades, murmuring _You’re safe, Reg_ , and Reggie mentally reminds himself that everything will go back to normal once the Mercers leave and that he and Alex will stop doing _this_. 

But they’ve always done this, haven’t they? 

For now, he melts into Alex’s embrace. He might as well enjoy this while it lasts. 

* * *

**Friday.**

The next day, Reggie greets Alex, who's already eating breakfast at a barstool, with a hug from behind, taking Mrs. Mercer’s timely appearance into account. “Morning, handsome,” he says, kissing Alex on the cheek. 

Alex mumbles a response through a mouthful of cereal. Reggie looks him up and down as he moves to get his coffee and… he’s still in his pajamas. “That’s a new look for class.” 

“Professor cancelled,” Alex says with a shrug. 

“You know what that means, right?” 

Alex looks at him expectantly, as if he’s sending a telepathic message of _No, I don’t know what that means, but please continue, my beautiful Reggie_. 

(Maybe that last part is made up, but whatever.) 

“We can finally check out that brunch place—” 

“—near Kenny’s, right? I’ll look up the menu—” 

“No, wait! I wanna plan this.” 

“You planned our last date.” 

“Oh, so this is a _date_ , Mercer?” 

“Yeah, Peters. Go on a date with me,” Alex says flatly, although there’s no bite behind his words. 

“You’re so charming, darling,” Reggie grins, which makes Alex chuckle. “But, really, I should plan this since I’m the only one of us who showered this morning.” He pauses to take a sip of his coffee, not understanding the logic behind the next words that come out of his mouth, but rolling with the punches anyway. “But, like, I wouldn’t say no to another if you asked.” 

Alex drops his spoon with a clatter, accidentally calling Mrs. Mercer’s attention to them. “Reginald.” 

“Yes, Alexander?” 

He places his mug on the counter as he watches Alex consider his offer, albeit fake, trying not to let his mind wander the possibilities if this were real— “Yeah, okay.” Alex puts his dishes in the sink, stealing a sip of Reggie’s coffee before setting the mug down, too. 

“I wasn’t finished with that.” 

“You can finish something else,” Alex mutters as he nudges Reggie toward the bathroom. 

Reggie feels his cheeks heat up, and he’s too distracted by Alex’s hand on his back to think about catching whatever horrified look is on Mrs. Mercer’s face until he’s about to close the bathroom door and— she’s not even there. She must have gone back to Alex’s room. Oh well. 

Inside, Alex pulls him into a hug, dropping a head on his shoulder, mumbling, “Oh, my god. You’re so weird. You’re _so_ weird.” 

Reggie pokes him in the sides, beaming when Alex laughs. “But that’s what you love about me, right?” 

“I love everything about you, dumbass, but now my parents think I’m having sex.” 

“Yeah, with _me_ , and I’ve never had a bad review.” 

(He can’t have a bad review if he’s only had sex with one person that’s too nice — to him, exclusively — to tell him if he sucked, right?) 

“Okay, but I haven’t…” 

“Not even with…?” Reggie leaves the question open, allowing Alex to draw his own conclusion. 

“Fuck, no, and he’s exactly why I _don’t_ want to.” 

Reggie presses a kiss to his temple, which is only somewhat smushed against his cheek. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t have had sex with him either.” 

Alex huffs out a laugh. “Always the sweetheart, Reg.” 

Reggie hums, hugging him tighter. 

“So… how are we doing this?” Alex lowers his voice as he breaks away. “We’re not actually—" 

“No! No. _No_.” Reggie scratches his neck. “We’ll, uh, we’ll figure it out.” 

“ _You_ can figure it out. _I_ forgot to bring clothes.” Alex reaches for the door handle, but Reggie stops him just in time. “What—” Reggie fusses with Alex’s hair, properly messing it up, then pulls off his own shirt. “This is unhelpful.” 

Reggie lets out a low laugh as he opens the bathroom door, nudging Alex outside as he leans against the doorframe. “Don’t keep me waiting, baby.” 

“You’re an asshole.” 

“ _Alex_ —” 

“Fine, I’ll be quick,” Alex gives in with a roll of his eyes, offset by the tiny smile on his lips. “But you better not keep _me_ waiting.” 

Reggie holds his hands up defensively, shutting the door behind Alex and sitting on the counter next to the sink. When Alex returns, he tosses a new shirt at Reggie before setting the rest of his clothes on Reggie’s lap — it’s a small counter and Reggie _is_ taking up most of the space — and turning the shower on. 

“You’re giving me Whitney?” Reggie asks, inspecting the purple shirt in his hands. 

“Yes, so don’t spill anything on it,” Alex snarks, stepping into the shower to undress privately. 

“I’ll treat her with the respect she deserves,” Reggie promises, pulling it over his head, then resorts to playing on his phone for the remainder of Alex’s shower. 

* * *

**Saturday.**

It takes Mrs. Mercer a full day to look at them again, which is a fucked-up repeat of high school, in Reggie’s humble opinion. 

Her way of compromising (?) is by offering to help Alex cook dinner. In a way, it’s a step up from Mr. Mercer’s “apology.” At least she’s making an effort to spend time with Alex. She conveniently looks the other way every time Alex uses Reggie as a taste-tester, but whatever. It’s _something_. 

In the middle of retelling the story of the two of them getting food poisoning with Luke, Reggie’s phone buzzes intensely and vibrates itself off the counter. He picks it up to see dozens of missed text messages from Luke, but doesn’t have time to read them because Luke chooses that moment to call him. 

Luke _never_ calls. 

He’s more of a texter, but he’ll answer every one of their friends’ calls within two seconds. But he’s never been the person who _initiates_ the phone call, and if he does, he texts first and waits for them to respond (like he’s doing now, except he skipped the waiting step. Sometimes that boy can be _so_ impatient). 

“Everything okay?” Alex asks, picking up on Reggie’s concern. 

“Yeah, uh…” Reggie’s eyes flit between Alex and his parents. “I’m gonna take this in the other room,” he says, pecking Alex on the cheek before excusing himself. 

He answers — Luke must’ve hung up and called back a second time, as the buzzing stopped for half a second — as he shuts the door to his room. “Hey, dude—” 

“Are you with Alex?” Luke’s panicked voice practically yells through the phone. 

“Uh, he’s making dinner—” 

“Okay, good. I need both of you.” 

Reggie quirks an eyebrow, even though Luke can’t see it. “Right now? Where are you?” 

“No, I— I just need to _talk_.” Luke catches his breath and, from the sound of it, he’s probably pacing around. “Is that— can you— _fuck_ , oh, my god.” 

“Hey, dude, it’s okay. I’m right here. I’ll put you on speakerphone.” Reggie pauses before opening his door. “Are you cool with Alex’s parents hearing this?” 

“They’re in town?” 

“Yeah, long story—” 

“Okay, tell me later, just— get Alex.” 

“Yeah, I’m—” Reggie rushes into the kitchen and grabs Alex’s shoulder as he taps his phone. Alex raises his eyebrows in question, but Reggie shrugs. “Okay, Luke, you’re on speaker. Talk to us.” 

“I’m gonna do it tonight,” Luke’s voice crackles through the phone. 

Alex covers his mouth with his hand, but Reggie doesn’t understand. “Do what?” 

“I’m gonna propose.” 

_Oh_. 

“Dude, that’s amazing!” Alex responds for both of them. “Is she— is she with you right now?” 

“I’m not _that_ dumb.” Reggie can hear Luke pouting. “We’re seeing Carrie perform tonight, and Jules ran into Flynn, so I told them I was going to the bathroom, and I’m _freaking out_.” 

Alex holds Reggie’s phone — and his hand — like the touch will virtually reassure Luke. “Julie loves you more than anything. You have nothing to worry about.” 

“I can’t believe _Alex Mercer_ is telling _me_ not to worry,” Luke grumbles. He has a point. Reggie has known Luke for most of his life and he’s never been anything but confident and seemingly cool — apart from music-related disagreements with his mom and anything related to Julie. 

And then Alex pulls his own phone out of his pocket and laughs at a text message — which can be played off as him reacting to Luke’s comment, until Reggie reads it and can’t hold back the _Holy fuck_ that escapes him as he and Alex type responses. 

**julie**  
completely hypothetical question   
if i were to propose to luke… 

**alex**  
WHAT

**julie**  
flynn is yelling at me   
and i might have a ring 

**alex**  
DO IT  
pls :D —reg <3

“What? What’s going on?” Luke asks, followed by muffled background chatter from the bathroom he definitely doesn’t need to hide in anymore. “Guys?” 

“Dude, there’s no better time than now,” Reggie says as Alex returns his phone. 

“You’re sure?” Luke’s voice cracks with uncertainty, but Reggie knows his mind is already made up. 

“One hundred percent,” Alex answers simply. 

“Okay… _okay_.” Luke exhales sharply. “I’ll see you guys on the other side.” And with that, he hangs up. 

Alex and Reggie exchange a look before bursting into laughter. The timing is perfect and hilarious and further proof that Julie and Luke are in-sync at any given moment, even when they don’t know it. 

Reggie bounces with excitement because his best friends are going to _engaged_ soon — he shouldn’t jinx it, but both of them are telling him and Alex about proposing to the other, so he has no doubts — and he’s sharing this with Alex, and he wouldn’t want to be with anyone else right now except Alex. Alex, who’s hugging him and spinning him around and kissing his cheek. 

Alex, his best friend in the entire world, who’s pretending to date him because the Mercers thought he had a girlfriend. And the whole fake-dating stuff is like a mild stabbing to the heart because Reggie wants to date him _for real_ , and this is the closest he’ll get, and it’s nice to enjoy it while it lasts, but it’s going to hurt like _fuck_ when Alex gets a real boyfriend and they move on from this chapter. 

So, no, he has absolutely no clue what possessed him to wag his eyebrows and tease Alex by asking, “So, when are you gonna propose to me, Lex?” 

“You’re cute” is all Alex says in response. 

Oh. Okay. Well, it makes sense that Alex won’t play along with this because they’re not really dating so they’re not really going to get engaged or married or anything but. Still. 

Maybe Reggie has been holding onto this stupid hope since middle school that things would _actually_ work out between him and Alex. That, somewhere along the way, Alex would realize that he has feelings for Reggie and they could fall in love and spend the rest of their lives together the same way they’ve been doing for years except with more kissing— 

“Reg.” Alex’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” 

Reggie swallows. His eyes flick back and forth between Alex and his parents and everyone is just _staring_ at him and he’s fucking suffocating in this lie. “I need some air.” 

“Reg, wait—” 

And the next thing he knows, he’s outside their apartment complex rubbing his hands together for warmth because, _damn it_ , he should’ve grabbed shoes or a coat or something, but, in the middle of his haste, he forgot January in L.A. could get this cold, and he didn’t think he’d be running out of their unit but. Here he is. 

And here’s Alex, too, because, _of course_ this boy follows him everywhere _and_ he’s prepared, now wearing his signature pink hoodie and pulling his denim jacket over Reggie’s shoulders. 

“You didn’t have to bring this,” Reggie says, shoving his arms through the sleeves despite his words. If Alex asks if he’s cold, the answer will be _No, fuck off_. 

“You didn’t have to leave, but now the chicken parm is at my mom’s mercy,” Alex shoots back. 

Reggie snorts. 

“Yeah, yeah, Mercer’s mercy,” Alex jokes at the same time the thought crosses Reggie’s mind. “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Try again.” 

“ _Nothing_.” 

“One more time.” 

Reggie hesitates. He looks at everything except Alex and his eyes land on the ground and— _dear lord_ , it is _filthy_. Geez. Definitely should’ve grabbed shoes. He’ll have to wash his feet when he goes back inside. 

In his moment of distraction, Alex steps toward him — at least he’s wearing socks, but those are going directly into the laundry — and takes his hands and makes him look up. “Talk to me.” 

Because Reggie is such a good listener, he says nothing. Instead, he wraps his arms around Alex’s shoulders, pulling him down for an unsteady hug, until Alex’s arms are on his waist, and there’s balance again. 

“I know we’re not dating,” Reggie mumbles into Alex’s neck. “I _know_ that.” He’s painfully aware of the fact, but he knows. 

“But…?” 

“But…” Reggie snorts again. _Butt_. 

He doesn’t even need to say the childish joke aloud for Alex to understand. “Shut up,” Alex mutters, nudging their heads together. 

“You’re the one who wanted me to talk.” 

“I do.” Alex pulls back slightly, his grasp unchanging. “It’s just us, Reg.” 

Reggie chews on his lip and squeezes Alex’s shoulder because something still doesn’t feel _right_ , until Alex’s hands leave his waist for just a few seconds to move Reggie’s hands to cup Alex’s face before returning to their usual spot. 

Another habit they picked up along the way, aside from the apparent telepathic humor. It started in high school? Reggie just… likes knowing if someone is really paying attention to his anxious rambling. He’s used to his own parents tuning him out, same goes for students and teachers from kindergarten through college, so it’s nice to have that physical reassurance. 

He’d never do this with anyone outside their friend group because _yikes_ , that would be uncomfortable, and he wouldn’t be okay with it anyway, and Alex is the only one who’s done it enough where it seems normal. 

But, one day, junior year, Reggie was pacing around his room and spewing nonsense about the latest fight his parents got into, and he might’ve let a _You’re probably not even listening_ slip out, and suddenly, Alex was in front of him, holding his face, and said, _I’m listening, I’m right here, keep going_. 

And Reggie might’ve burst into tears. 

Afterward, Alex apologized in case it was weird (which it was, but mainly because it was new). He mentioned all the times in school when he’d seen Reggie go on tangents about topics that were actually interesting and then trail off because students around them weren’t giving a damn, teachers were smiling and nodding like they were waiting for him to finish, and how Alex just wanted to grab his face and tell him to continue. 

So, that time, he did. 

And then it became a _thing_. 

Sometimes it was subtle. When Reggie would sit between him and Luke in the cafeteria and talk about this amazing country song he’d heard, then Luke would dismiss the entire genre, Alex would touch the underside of Reggie’s chin, and the spark would return in an instant. 

When Alex had trouble explaining what caused his latest panic attack because he was trying to brush it off as stupid and insignificant, Reggie would ask if he was okay with physical contact, and if Alex nodded (which he usually did), Reggie’s hand would hover beside his cheek until Alex closed the gap, and the words came out a little easier. 

It happened the most during senior year of high school, when Reggie’s parents had the same argument for _two weeks_ about why he should or shouldn’t apply to his dad’s alma mater, completely ignoring Reggie’s own college preferences like they could control the kid they’d made a habit of ignoring. He shrugged it off during that first round because _they always argue, I’m used to it_. 

And then it got worse and worse and _worse_ and Reggie could barely speak, eat, sleep, _nothing_ for a full _week_ until Alex, Julie, and Luke physically removed him from that house and he moved into the Molinas’ spare room for the rest of the school year while he and Alex saved up for the apartment they’d always talked about. 

And Alex, the blessing of a boy that he is, moved in, too, because of his own parents, and because he refused to leave Reggie’s side for too long. Reggie tried pushing him away — he tried so fucking hard because he _knew_ how clingy he would become and he _hated_ it — but Alex just pulled him closer, ate every meal with him, and sang him to sleep. Alex would hold Reggie’s face whenever he spoke, even though he’d barely make eye contact — and that still hasn’t changed — but Alex didn’t mind, he said he just wanted to hear Reggie talk again. 

And then Julie started doing it. And then Bobby. And then Luke. And Julie’s hands are softer because the piano treats her nicely, and Bobby’s hands are calmer because he can see through Reggie’s discomfort in a heartbeat, and Luke’s hands are warmer because he’s always sharing body heat with someone, but Alex’s hands feel like _home_. 

So, of course Alex is making Reggie hold his face in the middle of the sidewalk outside their apartment complex because he had to run away after one offhand comment. Of course he’d chase after Reggie, but not before grabbing an extra coat on his way out because he knows Reggie is always colder than he lets on. 

Of fucking course Alex is here because that’s just the kind of person he is, and that’s just the kind of person Reggie fell in love with, and that’s just the kind of person Reggie will continue to fall in love with every day for the rest of his life, because this stupid fucking crush isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

“Reg,” Alex repeats, because he’s probably been zoning out for twenty damn minutes. “Please say something.” 

Reggie’s throat goes dry. “It’s stupid.” 

“Nothing you say is stupid.” 

Reggie swallows because, _damn it_ , he can’t even think of a joke to play this off. Not when Alex is looking at him like _that_ with those damn eyes and Reggie’s gaze keeps falling to Alex’s nose. “I love you,” he shrugs. 

“See? That wasn’t stupid.” Alex squeezes his sides a little. “I love you, too.” 

“I love you.” 

Alex laughs. “I love you, too.” 

“No, Lex, I _love_ you,” he repeats, because somehow, Alex isn’t getting it, even though Reggie isn’t elaborating. 

Alex pauses, scanning Reggie’s face, and Reggie can finally meet his eyes, but they’re full of confusion, and his brows are furrowed, and Reggie is blowing this. “Reg…” 

“I love you. That’s it. I don’t know what else to say.” 

“Then say anything,” Alex suggests. “How, when, _why_ , whatever comes to mind.” 

A breeze pushes stray hairs onto Alex’s forehead and Reggie moves them back into place. “You listen to me. You laugh at my jokes. You make me coffee every morning and dinner every night and you put up with me.”

The wind picks up and Reggie has to fix Alex’s hair _again_. “You fall asleep on me ten minutes into movies because you’re an old man. You hold my hand when I get tattoos. You took care of me when my parents wouldn’t. You _still_ take care of me. You came out to me in eighth grade.” Okay, Reggie is basically playing with Alex’s hair at this point. “I spent all of seventh grade thinking I had a crush on my straight best friend, and then you came out, and I was so excited that I threw up when I got home.” 

“That’s why you missed school the next day,” Alex chuckles. “I thought it was my fault.” 

“It _was_ your fault.” 

“Reg.” 

“I’m kidding! Mostly.” 

Alex smiles. “Reg. Don’t deflect. Keep going.” 

“Okay, um…” He started with the basic _why_ and now he’s trying to think of the _how_. “I love you how— I love how— fuck, hold on.” What’s the _how_? Is it just another variation of the _why_? What about the _when_? How is he supposed to put a timeline on a feeling he’s had for as long as he can remember? 

Alex stays quiet. He rubs circles on the small of Reggie’s back and that sparks an idea. 

“I love it when you… hold me? I love how you always know what I need to feel, and also how I’m feeling when something’s wrong and I don’t know how to talk, but you’re _there_ , and you stay with me because you’ve always stayed and everyone else leaves, but you’ve never changed your mind, even though we’ve known each other for, like, _ever_ , and you’ve never called me stupid. Not once. I’ve said so many stupid things and you’ve _never_ made me feel like I’m stupid.” 

“Because you’re not stupid,” Alex reminds him softly. 

“And _that_. You always say the right thing, or whatever I need to hear without making me feel _wrong_.” Reggie laughs as his hands find Alex’s cheeks again. “I love you how— in the way— fuck, okay, I show you that I love you by putting your keys on the hook, and making banana bread when the bananas are too ripe, and— and pretending to be your boyfriend because your parents are so far up their own asses they think you’ll magically become straight, so you convinced the cutest guy you could find to be your fake boyfriend.” 

Alex rolls his eyes with a smile. “I asked you because we’ve done this before, and you know me, and you know my parents.” 

“Yeah. And I also know that I hate being your fake boyfriend. I fucking _hate_ it.” 

Alex’s smile drops completely and he freezes. 

Fuck. 

Reggie is fucking this up. He went too far and the only way to fix this is by going further and Alex is going to hate him— 

“Reggie, what the hell?” Alex asks in the calmest, lowest tone Reggie thinks anyone could possibly have in this situation. But, god, Alex is _considerate_ and would never yell at Reggie, even though he’s being a fucking idiot. 

“I don’t want to be your fake boyfriend anymore,” Reggie says with a shrug. “I’m fake-breaking up with you.” He tries pulling back, he puts his hands on Alex’s chest to give him leverage to push away, but Alex has some sort of iron grip on him. Or maybe he’s not trying hard enough because, if he lets go, then Alex will let go, and he’s not ready to deal with that possibility, even though it’s hurtling toward him at rocket speed. 

“Reggie, talk to me,” Alex insists for the millionth time, and he’s sick of hearing that phrase. 

“Talk to you? I’ve _been_ talking to you!” 

“Then tell me why we’re fake-breaking up.” This is new. Alex doesn’t ask for specifics when Reggie is still in the middle of figuring out what his own rambling is leading to, and Alex certainly _doesn’t demand them_. 

Reggie stares at him for a good five seconds before looking down and deciding: “No.” He has to end this once and for all, doesn't he? 

“No?” 

“ _No_ ,” he practically growls. 

Fuck. 

_Fuck_. 

Alex is going to let go. Alex is going to let go of him and then he’s going to be all alone and he’s going to lose this person that’s so fucking _good_ for him and sticks by his side, but now everything is going down the drain because Reggie can’t deal with his stupid fucking self. 

And then Alex lets go of him. 

_Fuck_. 

Reggie didn’t want to be right. 

He’s never wanted to be wrong more in his entire life than this moment where he hoped Alex would stay, despite pushing him away with words and shoving, because Alex has stayed for seventeen years, and it was only a matter of time before he decided was done with Reggie’s bullshit, and this is that moment, and _it’s about time_. 

Nobody stays this long. 

Nobody in their right mind willingly stays with Reggie for this fucking long. 

_Fuck_. 

And then there’s something against his face and it’s… a tissue? Is he crying? 

Reggie looks up and Alex is still here, holding a tissue from a pack he probably hid in the pocket of his hoodie, and he’s still here. 

“What’s going on?” Alex firmly repeats the question from the beginning of the conversation, his expression unreadable. 

And Reggie, being Reggie, naturally responds: “Nothing.” 

Alex shakes his head. “No. We’re not doing this again. What’s wrong?” 

“I already said—” 

“Jesus, Reg, you can’t tell me all the things you love about me one minute and then completely shut me out the next.” Alex’s voice rises slightly, but it’s like he’s mindful of his own volume as he’s speaking. “You were fine pretending to be my boyfriend for parties and in front of exes.” 

“This is different,” Reggie spits, pushing Alex’s hand away, and he hates how angry he sounds, but he doesn’t know how to stop it. 

“Why?” 

“Because it’s your parents.” 

“And?” 

“Because it’s a full week.” 

“And?” 

“Because I can’t _stand_ being your fake boyfriend anymore.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because I can’t keep doing _this_ anymore.” 

Alex slows down. “What do you mean by _this_?” 

“This.” Reggie gestures between them. “Us.” 

“What— what do you—” Alex’s voice wavers and it’s the worst sound in the world. “What do you mean by _us_?” 

“I mean _us_. You and me” Reggie runs a hand through his hair, but he can’t fix the mess of it. He can’t fix anything. He just screws things up more and more. “ _Pretending_.” 

“Reggie, please—” 

“Do you know how hard it is for me to let go of your hand? It’s so stupid, I just—” Reggie steps forward and grabs both of Alex’s hands and decides he’s going to hold them until he’s done saying whatever stupid thing he’s about to say. “I can’t let go. I can’t let go of you, and I never want to let go.” 

Alex’s hand, intertwined with Reggie’s, comes up to wipe a tear beneath his eye. 

“You’re my best friend in the whole world and I don’t— I wouldn’t trade that for anything. Seriously, _anything_ , but, like—” Come on, Reggie, spit it _out_. “I’ve been in love with you since seventh grade and I’ve tried— I’ve tried _so fucking hard_ to get over it, because you’re never going to feel the same way, and I accepted that _years_ ago, but… look how _that_ turned out.” 

Alex mutters something, but Reggie passes over it because _fuck that_. He’s already started, and he’s getting this off his chest _now_. 

“So, yeah. Luke and Julie getting engaged brings up a lot of feelings about how many different ways I imagined our wedding to be, because I fall asleep thinking about it. A lot. And sometimes, it shows up in my dreams. I’ve had _literal dreams_ about our make-believe wedding, and if we use balloons as centerpieces at the reception, we _will_ get attacked by raccoons.” 

Alex laughs and it’s _musical_. 

Reggie is crying. No, he’s _sobbing_ about dream raccoons, and he’s yelling at Alex, and their whole neighborhood can probably hear him, but he doesn’t care anymore. “I’m sick and tired of having to prove ourselves to people who aren’t worth our time. I just want to hold your hand because I _can_ , and fall asleep next to you because _you’re_ my home, and kiss you senseless because I love you so much, and it’s _stupid_ how much I love you.” 

And Alex is looking at him with some indecipherable expression and _oh no, Alex is crying_. Reggie made Alex cry. He’s never _ever_ made Alex cry until now and _fuck_. He thought he only screwed up but, _no_ , this is the definition of _truly fucking things up_ , and— 

“Reg?” Alex’s voice cracks from the single syllable. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry—” 

Alex shakes his head and waves off the apology and says something weirder than Reggie’s tangent about dream raccoons: “Do you still want me to propose?” 

“What?” 

“Upstairs, you, um, you said— you asked if— _when_ I’d propose?” Alex explains. Sort of. “And then you say… everything you just said?” 

Reggie blinks. “But we’re— we’re not—” 

“I love you.” 

“Alex—” 

“I _love_ you, dumbass, and I know that doesn’t come close to competing with anything you just said.” Alex’s hands circle his waist again and _what is happening_ and he presses a kiss to Reggie’s forehead. “I’ve loved you since we met, and I’ve been _in love_ with you since I knew I liked boys, and I’ll marry you tonight if you want, because I want to marry you, too, and I can’t imagine a life that doesn’t include loving you.” 

What. 

_What_. 

And because Reggie has such a way with words, as demonstrated by his long-winded confession, his eloquent response is: “Uh?” 

“Reg?” 

Reggie’s brain kind of… shuts down. He doesn’t know what to do. All his life, his brain instructed him _Love this cute boy!_ and the cute boy loves him back — _loves_ him — and now his brain is a mess of ten million question marks because he didn’t think _this_ would realistically happen. 

So. Once again. What. 

“ _Reg_.” 

At some point, Reggie’s hands find their way back to Alex’s face, and he loves holding Alex’s face, and he loves holding Alex, and _he loves Alex_. 

“Reg, can I—” 

“—kiss you?” 

Alex pauses. “What?” 

“Can I kiss you?” Reggie repeats. “For real?” 

Alex shakes but he’s nodding and breathing _Yeah. Yes, of course_ as Reggie closes the gap between them. There are no fireworks or sparks flying because Alex feels like safety. He’s warm, even with the wind biting at their cheeks and the gravel beneath their feet, but Reggie is as warm as the night he and Alex fell asleep underneath their favorite blanket after drinking hot chocolate and watching Disney movies and holding each other like there was no tomorrow. 

Kissing Alex is like coming back after a long road trip, kicking off shoes, and falling into bed, because there’s nowhere else to be but here. It’s the quiet of a calm house and the vibrance of the unconditional love blooming within its walls. It’s the comfort of fingers remembering guitar and piano chords, even with months between concerts for one. It’s the simplicity of planning to nap together after a long day apart. It’s the excitement of late nights in cars while one feeds the other fries as they drive to an open field to stargaze and talk about everything and nothing and all that lives in between. 

Kissing Alex is like coming home. 

* * *

**Sunday.**

When Reggie wakes up, Alex is cuddling him. Like normal. There’s an arm around Reggie’s waist, he’s holding Alex’s hand to his chest, Alex’s forehead rests against the back of his own head, and— 

Oh no. 

It was all a dream, wasn’t it? 

Last night was just a painfully realistic — but utterly perfect — dream. 

They’re still friends. Just friends. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Reggie assigns partial blame to those stupid fucking raccoons, but the rest belongs to him alone. 

He tries slipping out of bed as quietly as possible, but Alex tightens his grip and pulls Reggie closer. “Five more minutes,” he mumbles, pressing lazy kisses to the back of Reggie’s neck, sending a shiver down his spine and rendering him useless for a full ten seconds. 

“Alex—” 

“Morning, Reg.” Alex trails a line of kisses down Reggie’s back — letting him know they’re both shirtless, but clothed from the waist down — maneuvering around tattoos, focusing on the bumps of vertebrae, and even more on the space between. “How’d you sleep, my love?” 

_My love_. 

The events of the previous night flood into his mind. He kissed Alex. _He kissed Alex_. Not only that, but he confessed everything in his heart, and _Alex loves him, too_. They ate dinner without the Mercers and he fell asleep on Alex’s shoulder after two episodes of _Buzzfeed Unsolved_. 

He turns over to face Alex and is immediately pulled into a sweet kiss. “Amazing,” he breathes against Alex’s lips. 

He laughs softly, letting his eyes flutter shut for a moment as Alex traces along Reggie’s skin with his fingertips. He starts with a cheek caress, then moves down his neck, his side, up his back, over his arm, ending at his hand, inspecting the lines on Reggie’s palm as if they were a map to the stars. 

“What are you doing, Lex?” Reggie asks in a hushed tone, not wanting to interrupt the intimacy. 

“I want to know everything about you.” 

“You already do.” 

“Not everything,” Alex answers, his eyes returning to Reggie’s with a gentle radiance of adoration. “I don’t know your body, like if you cuddle after sex, or if you smile when I call you just ‘cause I want to hear your voice. I don’t know if you’ll kiss me every time I come home, even if I stepped out to get the mail—” 

“Alex,” Reggie interrupts kindly. “You already know.” He mirrors Alex’s motion of lingering hands over skin until he brushes hair out of Alex’s face. 

“I don’t know what it’s like to come home to someone who loves me as much as I love him.” 

“You already do.” Reggie ponders for a moment, suddenly wary of Alex’s sleepy, vulnerable state. “Get up. I have an idea.” 

“Reg—” 

“Come _on_.” He pulls Alex out of the bed as he stands. He grabs a flannel off the floor and leads Alex to the front door. He shoves the shirt into Alex’s hands, knowing he won’t be comfortable doing this in just his pajama pants. “Put this on, step outside, and then come back in.” 

Alex huffs and puts the flannel on, not bothering to button it. “Where are you going with this?” 

“Trust me, Lex—” 

“I _do_ —” 

“Then go _outside_ —” 

“Can I brush my teeth first?” 

“Fine, but be _quick_.” 

He is, thank goodness. When Alex comes back, he hesitates to put his hand on the doorknob. “Into the hallway, or out to the sidewalk?” 

“The _hallway_ , dumbass—” 

“Okay, I’m _going_.” He steps out, then asks, “So, when do I come in?” 

Reggie shrugs. “Whenever you feel like it,” he says, walking back to his room. 

“Oh, my— Reggie,” Alex sighs, immediately re-entering their apartment and locking the door. “What was the point—” 

Reggie feigns a look of surprise at Alex’s arrival. “Oh, my wonderful boyfriend is home! I love you!” 

Alex laughs, but still seems confused. “Reg—” 

“I’m gonna jump in your arms—” 

“No, you’re not—” 

He does, and Alex catches him, supporting Reggie’s legs around his waist as Reggie peppers kisses on the top of his head, all over his face, and then his lips, slowing down to deepen it so Alex _knows_ how much he loves him. 

“I love you, too,” Alex says, smiling as their noses bump together. “But whatever this was, it was—” 

“Perfect?” 

“I was gonna say ridiculous.” Another kiss. “But, yeah.” One more. “Perfect.” 

Reggie hops out of Alex’s arms with a soft _thud_. “I’m gonna make breakfast.” 

“Breakfast can wait,” Alex insists, pulling Reggie in for another kiss. 

“I’ll make pancakes.” And as Alex opens his mouth to speak, Reggie cuts him off, already having the same idea in mind. “Blueberry for you, chocolate chip for me, plain for your parents.” 

He manages to separate from Alex long enough to make the batter while Alex rinses blueberries, stealing a few afterward, even though they’re specifically for pancake purposes and _not_ thievery. 

“Mini pancakes?” Alex asks, pressing a kiss to the back of Reggie’s head. 

“Of course, your highness.” 

Alex laughs, then scrunches up his face at a ~~stolen~~ sour blueberry. “You didn’t brush.” 

Reggie is about to pour the batter on the stove-top griddle they bought just to make pancakes — it cooks other food, too, but pancakes were the sole food in mind when they discovered it at Bed, Bath, and Beyond — and stops because… oops. “I was busy… thinking about pancakes.” It’s a very common excuse in their home, although Reggie is the only one who uses it. 

Alex laughs _again_ , and it’s prettier every time, and he coaxes Reggie out of the way to take over the pancake-making-process while Reggie leaves to brush his teeth, because of course Reggie can’t say no to Alex. 

He really _should_ learn how to say no because, when he comes back, Alex’s hands are covered in batter for some reason. 

“How—” 

“I have no idea,” Alex says as Reggie resumes control of breakfast. After washing his hands, he leans back against the counter next to Reggie — a safe distance from the blueberries — and his face is too serious for this early in the morning. “So… we should talk about last night.” 

Oh. 

This seems… bad. Yeah, no, any conversation that starts with the words _We should talk_ always ends badly. 

“That wasn’t a proposal—” 

“What?” 

Reggie’s heart sinks. Alex must have changed his mind in the middle of the night. He doesn’t want to marry Reggie. He should’ve known better. The way they started the morning was too good to be true. He _knows_ Alex loves him back, but he was right being suspicious that Alex would never love him the same amount. 

He drops a measuring spoon onto the hot griddle. He’s about to pick it up with his fingers when Alex stops him, uses a pair of tongs to move it to the sink so neither of them burn themselves, then replaces Reggie’s spoon — all within the span of twenty seconds. 

“I wanna make it special,” Alex clarifies. “I— I want to put more thought into it, and make it _good_ , and actually have rings—” 

“Why?” 

Alex stares at him like the answer is obvious. “Because it’s _you_ , dumbass.” 

Reggie hesitates. “Are you sure?” 

“About you? More than anything.” Alex touches his shoulder. “What’s going on, Reg?” 

“I—” Reggie shifts his focus to flipping pancakes. “This isn’t a dream, right?” He’s had dreams like this before, but he’s always woken up before Alex could kiss him. 

“No. No, it isn’t.” Alex gently takes the spatula out of his hands and puts it on the counter. 

Reggie fidgets with the hem of his shirt. “So, last night was…?” 

“Real.” Alex turns off the stove. “It was very real, and everything you said is on a loop in my head, and that’s probably the only reason why I’m not overthinking _us_ , and I love you.” 

“Oh.” Okay. That… good. That’s good. Very good. 

Alex’s hands find their way to Reggie’s face as he breathes, “Yeah.” 

“Yeah?” 

“ _Yeah_.” 

Reggie bounces on the balls of his feet, holding Alex’s waist to steady himself, because _yeah_. “So.” 

“So?” 

“You want to propose?” 

Alex rolls his eyes with a smile. “You made it very clear that _I_ should.” 

“But what if I did it first?” 

Alex narrows his eyes. “No. No way. I already have a plan.” 

“It’s been one day—” 

“I called dibs.” 

“You can’t _call dibs_ on proposing.” 

“I just did—” 

“Alex.” His name brings his attention back to Reggie — and Reggie, who’s standing on the tips of his toes just so he can be an inch taller for once — and Alex presses their foreheads together. “ _Alex_.” 

“Yes, Reggie?” 

“I’m gonna kiss you now.” 

“Good.” 

And he does. And it’s soft and it’s wonderful and it’s right and it’s _Alex_. Reggie can’t believe he ever doubted this, especially today with Alex being so loving and holding onto him with so much certainty and tenderness. He barely pulls back, sooner than he wants to, but only so he can say _Alex_ again. 

“Yeah, Reg?” Alex steals another kiss. 

“Alexander.” 

Alex laughs and copies him. “Reginald.” 

“Will you do me the honor—” 

“No.” 

“What?” Reggie pulls back a little farther to figure what exactly caused this refusal. 

But Alex is all smiles, glowing, despite the pout he’s clearly failing to show. “This is _not_ happening in our kitchen.” 

Reggie gives him a noncommittal frown. “You didn’t let me finish the question.” 

“I know what you’re doing.” 

“Lex, _please_ make me the happiest man on earth—” 

“God, Reg—” 

“And unload the dishwasher after breakfast?” 

Alex jaw drops. Okay, maybe _this_ is the thing that will set Alex off because he looks upset for the first time in the conversation and— and he _laughs_. Full-body, throwing his head back, laughing until he cries. He doesn’t bother to wipe the stray tears away as he hugs Reggie, stroking his hair, kissing his temple, and saying, “No.” 

“But, _Alex_ ,” he complains, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “For me?” 

“Fine.” 

“Really?” 

Alex pulls back just enough to kiss Reggie’s forehead. “Sure, Reg.” 

~~~ 

“Alexander Peters,” Reggie tries as Alex hands him his refilled mug of coffee. “ _Alex_ Peters. Lex Peters. Alex _Peters_.” 

Alex quirks an eyebrow. “What are you doing?” 

“If we’re getting married, we gotta figure out whose last name sounds better. So…?” 

“Reggie Mercer,” Alex copies, putting a second helping of pancakes on his own plate and sneaking one onto Reggie’s, too. “Reginald Mercer, Reg Mercer—” 

“We could hyphenate?” Reggie suggests. “Alex and Reggie Mercer-Peters.” 

“Reggie and Alex Peters-Mercer?” Alex scrunches his nose. “I think we need cooler last names.” 

“What if we both change it to Molina? I mean, Ray basically adopted us,” Reggie points out between bites of pancake. “ _And_ Julie’ll have a slightly stronger argument to convince Luke to take her last name.” 

“I think Luke would hate us, but Julie would think it’s hilarious,” Alex says slowly, and Reggie can practically see the gears turning in his head. “Okay, this is a good plan. Besides the part where Luke hates us.” 

“We’ll be _fine_. Luke loves Julie more than he could ever hate us. He’d probably say yes to her anyway.” 

Alex shrugs. “Maybe they’ll hyphenate? Or use the last name for whoever proposed first since they were both planning it?” 

“Well, we can’t do that because you haven’t proposed yet,” Reggie grumbles jokingly, adding a pout for dramatic effect. “Why didn’t you propose to me, Lex?” 

“Because, Reg, I thought _Alex and Reggie No-Last-Name_ would sound perfect on our Christmas card,” Alex answers sarcastically. 

“ _You_ would sound perfect on our Christmas card,” Reggie shoots back. 

“That— okay.” The most Alex does in retaliation is give Reggie a quick peck on the cheek. “What did Flynn and Carrie do?” 

“They’re married?” 

“I think they eloped?” 

“What— how am I finding out about this _now_?” Reggie pulls his phone out of his pocket and immediately texts Flynn. 

**reg**  
DID YOU AND CARRIE ELOPE

**queen flynn**  
;) 

**reg**  
DID YOU

**queen flynn  
**;) 

“Look at this.” Reggie holds his phone up for Alex to read the conversation… and Alex laughs. Reggie groans. These gays are so unhelpful. 

**reg**  
DID YOU AND FLYNN ELOP  
*ELOPE

**queen carrie**  
flynn told me to say   
;) 

**reg**  
>:(

“Same thing with Carrie,” he mumbles. 

“Try Bobby?” Alex suggests. 

**reg**  
how do you decide who takes last name  
like, for marriage

**bobby**  
uhhh  
got something you wanna ask? ;) 

**reg**  
not today, bobbers ;)

**bobby**  
okay, fine, don’t ask me  
but just know!  
i expect better than a text-proposal  
esp from you, babe 

**reg**  
of course <3  
alex and i are trying to figure this out  
luke would obvs become a molina

**bobby**  
luke and julie are engaged? 

**reg**  
uhhhh  
you didn’t hear it from me  
but also  
idk what flynn and carrie did?

**bobby**  
flynn and carrie are engaged??? 

**reg**  
alex says they eloped??

**bobby**  
jesus fucking christ 

And then Bobby, being the helpful dude that he is, stops responding. 

“I think we all have some communication issues…” Reggie mutters. 

Alex snorts into his coffee. “Says you.” 

“I hate you.” Then, an awful realization: “Oh, my god, am I homophobic for saying that?” 

Alex stifles his laugh behind his hand. “Reg—” 

“Should I hang out with your parents?” 

Speak of the devil — no offense to the devil — the Mercers choose this moment to emerge from Alex’s room. 

“What’s all this?” Mr. Mercer asks with a smile. He seems to be in a good mood for once. 

“We made breakfast because we’re celebrating,” Alex says. 

“ _I_ made breakfast,” Reggie corrects. “You just stood there, looking pretty and stealing blueberries.” 

Alex shrugs. “You didn’t complain,” he mutters before taking a sip of his coffee. 

“Yeah, because you’re really good at looking pretty—” 

“Reggie—” 

“I have no reason to complain—” 

“I’m not the only thief in this house, Reginald—” 

“I may have stolen your heart, but I'm not the only one who was talking about _proposing_ —” 

They’re cut off by the sound of Mrs. Mercer dropping the cup she was reaching for, which shatters across the hardwood floor, sending broken glass in every direction. 

Reggie glances at Alex, who’s drawn into a staring match with his father, then mutters, “I’ll get the dustpan.” He almost turns to move, but Alex grips his hand, rooting him in place. 

“We have given you so many chances, Alexander.” Mrs. Mercer’s words are barely audible, but they cut through Reggie like a knife, and he can’t even fathom what they do to Alex. “We were fine with this lifestyle for some time, but we can’t—” 

“We can’t change him,” Mr. Mercer interrupts, and for a second, Reggie lets himself believe that this will turn out better than it actually will. “There’s no point in us staying here.” Then he looks at Reggie, an eerily familiar venom in his voice, reminiscent of Reggie’s own parents. “He’s made his choice.” 

Without another word, they leave, stepping over the glass, ignoring the boys, retrieving their suitcases from Alex’s room, and then they’re out the door. 

And Alex doesn’t fight them on it. He clutches the edge of the counter like it’s the only thing keeping him upright, staring down at it like he can’t focus his attention elsewhere, then finally relaxes when Reggie touches his shoulder. 

“So,” Reggie starts gently, “ _Alex and Reggie No-Last-Name_ sounds _pretty good_ right now.” 

“You sound pretty good right now,” Alex mumbles, echoing their earlier conversation. 

Reggie giggles, which leads to Alex smiling. “I love you.” 

Alex kisses him, softly but confidently, and Reggie can feel the way the gesture reassures both of them that Alex won’t let his parents undermine him anymore. “I love you, too.” 

~~~

**bobby**  
carrie and flynn both sent me this:  
;)   
nothing else.  
i think i’m homophobic 

**reg**  
you had sex with a man

**bobby**  
you have no proof 

**reg**  
I WAS THERE  
ACTIVELY PARTICIPATING

**bobby**  
again:  
no. proof. 

**reg**  
that’s it  
we are OVER, robert wilson

**bobby**  
babe…  
we were never together… 

**reg**  
O V E R  
>:( </3

**bobby**  
okay, reg  
i love you 

  
**reg**  
i love you, too <3 :)

* * *

**February 2021.**

When Reggie walks into the music hallway in the student center, the first thing he sees is Alex’s backpack on the floor of a practice room. The second thing he sees, however, is some guy kissing Alex inside of said practice room. 

He trusts Alex entirely, and he knows Alex wouldn’t do anything to hurt him, which means this random guy initiated the kiss, so Alex probably can’t move because he’s freaking out, so why the fuck is this guy kissing him? 

And then the guy pulls away and Reggie assumes he’s one of Alex’s ex-boyfriends. But Reggie doesn’t have time to wrack his brain for a clue as to what this guy’s name is because Alex is still frozen — probably mid-panic attack, and an ex-boyfriend kissing him makes it worse on so many levels — and Reggie is storming over, only slowing down to carefully open the door, then yank the guy out, gently closing the door when they’re both out. 

(Usually, Reggie would stay in the room to help Alex. However, an unmoving Alex means he doesn’t want to be touched, plus someone — ex or not — invading his personal space intensifies his anxiety, and practice rooms are tiny and will be unforgiving in this situation. Even if Alex _did_ want Reggie to stay in there, he’d still have to make this guy leave and lessen the chances of outside forces aggravating Alex.) 

“The fuck, dude?” the guy shouts and Reggie is suddenly aware of the fact that this guy is six inches taller and _definitely_ a football player and Reggie has no way to defend himself. 

“G— get away from him.” His voice wavers but he refuses to back down. 

The guy scans him up and down, smirking and boasting the fact that Reggie doesn’t scare him. “Oh, so you’re the _side piece_ now.” 

That’s when it clicks. This is _Thomas_. He dated Alex last summer, dropped subtle complaints about how Alex wouldn’t put out, and Alex dumped him after Reggie caught him in a web of lies. His comment is just another lie. Reggie knows this. He _knows_ this, but that doesn’t prevent his heart from dropping because Thomas says it with so much certainty that it scares Reggie more than it should. Alex would never cheat, Reggie knows that with every fiber of his soul, but this asshole is trying to get a rise out of him and _it’s working_ because Thomas screwed with Alex’s head for the majority of their relationship and now he’s screwing with Reggie with seven insignificantly infuriating words. 

Reggie doesn’t know what happens next besides Thomas laughing and his vision going red, but somehow, he pushes Thomas against the wall. Thomas slides down, knees buckling, clearly taken by surprise — get in line, so is Reggie — until they’re eye level. 

And Reggie, the self-proclaimed pacifist, leans forward enough so Thomas can hear his breathing and smell the grilled cheese Alex made him for lunch. “I’m only gonna say this once.” Reggie speaks in a low growl he didn’t know he was capable of creating. “Stay the fuck away from him, or I won’t be so nice next time.” 

When Reggie moves away, Thomas easily finds his footing, fixing his jacket, and turning back to keep an eye on Reggie as he leaves. Once he’s out of sight, Reggie runs a hand through his hair and sighs. How do people keep up an intimidating persona for so long? Reggie did it for a minute and he’s _exhausted_. 

He reopens the practice room door to find Alex sitting up and playing on his phone. 

“Hey,” Reggie says softly, and Alex looks up and smiles. “Do you want me to stay?” 

Alex flips his phone between his fingers as he silently considers the question. After a few seconds, he holds out a hand, which Reggie takes as he sits two feet away, setting an easy, breathable distance, only connected by their hands. He rubs his thumb over Alex’s knuckles as they enjoy the quiet of the somewhat-soundproof room. 

Alex goes back to playing on his phone, so Reggie does the same. He double-checks that it’s on silent (he’s never turned the ringer on, but he has to be _sure_ ) and turns the vibrate feature off just before getting a text. 

**lex**   
thank you 

**reg**  
<3

They stay like that until Julie sends a message to their group chat with Luke, reminding them all of their movie night, and that she and Luke will pick up dinner on their way over. Alex’s grip tightens — just slightly, barely noticeable — on Reggie’s hand, so he sends a direct text. 

**reg**  
we can cancel if u want?  
they’ll understand

**lex**   
i’ll be okay   
just need a few more minutes 

**reg**  
<3<3

“You stick your tongue out when you text,” Alex whispers. 

Reggie chuckles softly as he comes up with the only proper response. 

**reg**  
:P

~~~ 

Julie and Luke are on the couch when Alex and Reggie get home, takeout Chinese food containers sprawled on the tiny coffee table. They already have Netflix queued up by the time Reggie and Alex settle into their seats. 

Reggie plants himself between Alex and Luke, leaning into a hug when Luke squishes into him, simultaneously acting as a barricade so Alex doesn’t have to deal with the discomfort of rejecting Luke’s touch. 

Julie starts the movie — something with Jordan Fisher in it, which means the gang _finally_ agrees on the night’s selection — while they all put their own plates. 

About halfway through, Alex’s head lands on his shoulder, and Reggie knows he’s okay again. 

“He asleep already?” Julie asks, a light chuckle seeping into her question. 

Reggie feels Alex nod into his shoulder. “He says yes.” He presses a kiss into Alex’s hair and receives a grumble in response. 

“C’mon, Alex,” Luke pleads, hooking his chin over Reggie’s free shoulder. “Jordan Fisher is dancing. That’s two things you love.” 

“Mm-hmm,” Alex hums, lifting his head and allowing Reggie to readjust and put an arm around him. 

Luke pushes himself off the couch — a bit over-dramatically, in Reggie’s opinion — and sticks out a hand in front of Alex. “Alright, get up.” 

“Huh?” 

“We’re gonna go run around the neighborhood.” 

“What?” 

“I’m _kidding_ ,” Luke quips. He pulls Alex up to his feet and they gather the plates and takeout containers, clearing off the table. He stops Julie and Reggie from helping, explaining that they’re _too pretty to work_. 

“He said the same thing about himself yesterday,” Julie comments in a low voice, stifling her own laughter while Reggie refuses to hide his. “So, Alex?” 

“He had a bit of a rough day—” 

“No, sweetie, I meant you _and_ Alex.” 

Oh… uh… uh? “What do you mean?” 

“You guys ever gonna work your shit out?” Julie asks bluntly. 

Reggie holds back a scoff because this is _not_ going be the hot topic of the night. “Speaking of working shit out, who proposed first?” 

Julie laughs. “We’re letting people place bets and guess what happened, so I can’t tell you, otherwise Luke will call me out for being biased.” 

“He probably already told his mom—” 

“He did. Now, you and Alex?” 

“I don’t know what you’re asking,” Reggie says nonchalantly, testing how far he can play this joke. 

Julie tsks, smiling as she shakes her head, mocking disapproval. “One of these days, you’re gonna stop deflecting.” 

“Yeah, but for now, I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” Reggie stands, narrowly avoiding the roll of Julie’s eyes and the oddly suggestive wiggle of Luke’s eyebrows as Reggie passes him. He locks himself in the bathroom for a solid five minutes, a time frame that ensures Luke and Alex will be done cleaning — or will have given up cleaning, in Luke’s case — before exiting. 

But as soon as his hand is on the door handle, he hears a scream. He runs back to his friends, sliding across the hardwood in his socks because he miscalculated the short distance, just in time to see Alex fall off the couch and Luke clamp a hand over Julie’s mouth. 

“Uh…” Reggie isn’t sure where to start. “Did I miss something?” 

“Nope!” Julie says abruptly as she stands. “You missed nothing.” She pulls Luke to stand, too. “Luke and I are actually really tired—” 

“We are?” 

“And we’re gonna turn in for the night.” 

“We are,” Luke agrees as Julie drags him to Alex’s room. “Night, guys.” 

Reggie gives them a small wave as Luke shuts the door, then turns to Alex, lowering his voice. “Did someone… yell?” 

“Yeah, I was emptying my pockets and I dropped my phone and scared Julie—” Alex stops mid-step. “And all my change is on the floor.” Sure enough, a few coins lay scattered between the sofa and the kitchen island. “I’ll get it in the morning.” And then he spots the dishes in the sink and groans. “And we have to clean up. Okay, uh, I rinse, you load?” 

Reggie shakes his head. “I got it. Go to bed.” 

“Reg—” 

“You’ve had a long day. I’ll take care of it.” When Alex opens his mouth to protest, Reggie cuts him off again. “Go. I can handle it.” 

Alex must not have a lot of fight in him because he resigns to pull Reggie into a soft hug, mumbling _Thank you_ into the crook of his neck, followed by a chaste kiss, then actually listening to Reggie and going to bed. 

The pile of dishes in the sink is more manageable than it seems, but halfway through, Alex comes out of Reggie’s room to hastily knock on the door of his own. When Luke answers, he and Reggie share similar looks of confusion, but Alex mumbles something about pajamas before shoving his way in and closing the door again. 

Reggie shrugs it off because Alex _is_ particular about his pajamas on his more anxious nights. But the muffled conversation and Julie’s blatant _What?!_ suggests Alex isn’t actually searching for pajamas. Especially since Reggie can see them neatly folded on Alex’s designated side of Reggie’s bed. 

Reggie finishes loading the dishwasher by the time Alex returns empty-handed, steadying himself against the island. 

“They might be in my room?” Reggie suggests, knowing the fact to be true. “Water?” 

Alex nods, burying his head in his hands. 

Reggie places a mug of water on the counter and touches Alex’s shoulder gently. “Hey, I love you.” 

“I love you, too,” Alex says behind his hands. 

“I’m almost done. I’ll be in bed soon.” 

Alex nods, taking the mug and returning to Reggie’s room, slowly tugging the door closed. 

Reggie puts away clean dishes that have been air-drying since morning, puts snacks back in the cabinet, and is almost ready to turn in for the night with his own mug of water when his foot hits something on the floor, sending it sliding to the other end of the island. 

Oh, yeah. Alex dropped some of his loose change. Reggie might as well pick it up now so Alex doesn’t have to deal with it in the morning. 

Reggie puts his mug on the counter and crawls on his hands and knees, picking up more change than he thought men’s jeans pockets could hold — geez, Alex. Guess his next birthday present will be a piggy bank. 

Reggie sorts them on the counter, giving his knees a break mid-search, and then he finds something next to the sofa that’s way too thick to be a coin. 

It’s a ring. 

He sits criss-cross applesauce — he doesn’t know a better term for it, sue him — to examine it. It’s a plain, silver, steel band that looks a bit too big for his ring fingers, but fits nicely on his thumb. 

It’s not his. It might belong to Alex, or maybe Luke or Julie, although Reggie has never seen Alex wear this before, but the style seems like what Alex _would_ wear, and Reggie likes it, too. It’s lightweight and smooth and simple and— 

It’s engraved. 

Reggie probably would’ve heard about it if his friends got one of their everyday rings engraved, right? Because that’s _expensive_ , right? So people only get things engraved for special occasions or purposes? 

It’s engraved with a single letter on the inside, so maybe that’s not _too_ expensive, but why would any of his friends get an _R_ on their rings, because there’s no logical explanation besides— 

Fuck. 

Holy fuck. 

He clamps a hand over his mouth and almost drops the ring because this is _the_ ring, and Alex can’t know he found it, and Luke and Julie don’t seem like they even know he and Alex are together, and _holy fuck_. 

_This_ is the ring. 

This is _the_ ring. 

Alex actually got a ring like he promised and he’s going to propose to Reggie. 

It could happen at literally any moment. 

Except right now because Reggie made Alex go to bed and Reggie has the ring and Alex probably didn’t realize he dropped it and— 

Reggie puts it back. He hides it in the same spot beneath the couch where he found it because, once Alex realizes it’s gone, he’ll freak out and turn the apartment upside down in his search, so Reggie might as well put it back in its original place and make Alex's life a little bit easier. 

Or. 

_Or_. 

He could have some fun. 

Unless he goes out and buys a ring first thing tomorrow morning, he won’t have _that_ kind of leverage over Alex, _but_ … he has a plan. 

~~~ 

Reggie wakes up with Alex’s head on his chest — and this man won’t _move_ — although he manages to slide out anyway, but not without Alex grabbing his hand as soon as he stands, a pleading look on his face, a desperate attempt for him to stay a few more minutes. Reggie, with no idea where his newfound willpower is coming from, kisses Alex’s forehead with a promise to make coffee. 

And because he’s a good boyfriend, Reggie gets the coffee pot brewing before going on with his plan. 

The ring didn’t magically disappear in the middle of the night — which means Alex didn’t get up and Julie and Luke must not know about it — so Reggie pockets it. 

After going through his short morning routine, he’s still the only person up and in the kitchen, so he puts on the ring. He was right — it _does_ fit his thumb, and it’s too big for his other fingers, so that’s where it will stay. 

He takes it off to crack eggs, chop vegetables, and take bacon out of its package, but he puts it back on after washing his hands a few times and fully switches to handling the food with utensils. He takes out plates and his friends’ favorite mugs — prematurely filling Alex’s with the five spoons of sugar he requires — as the coffee finishes brewing in time for Alex to join him in the kitchen. 

Alex pours coffee as Reggie plates scrambled eggs and bacon, unloading the dishwasher together while they wait for their friends to wake until— 

“Where did you get that?” Alex puts down the bowl he was holding and steps in front of Reggie, grabbing his hands and inspecting the ring. 

“Oh, I found it on the floor,” Reggie says with a shrug, trying to play this off casually, even though he can already feel his cheeks heat up. “It’s nice, maybe you—” Alex takes the ring. Reggie tries swiping it back, but Alex holds it above them and _damn their two-inch height difference_. “I was gonna _say_ , maybe you could get your _own_ —” 

“This _is_ mine.” Alex seems unbothered by Reggie jumping in attempts to reclaim the ring as he digs in his pocket for— “ _This_ is yours.” 

He places an identical steel band in Reggie’s palm, but this one is slightly smaller, and the letter _A_ is engraved inside. 

“You get the _A_ because you always have me,” Alex explains, then gestures to his own ring, “and I have you.” 

Well, that’s fucking cute. 

“Oh.” Reggie clears his throat. “So it goes on my thumb?” 

“No.” 

“Pinky?” 

“ _No_.” 

“Well, then, I’m gonna need you to put it on me. For the sake of, uh, getting it right, you know?” (Reggie’s voice did _not_ crack three separate times in those two sentences.) 

“Yeah, um…” 

Alex blushes the same shade of red as Reggie, not meeting his eyes, and he fumbles as he slides the ring on Reggie’s left ring finger. Alex’s hands stop shaking when Reggie does the same with Alex’s ring. 

“Good?” Reggie asks, nervously swallowing as he scans Alex’s face for _something_ other than redness and a lack of eye contact. 

Instead of an answer, Alex kisses him full on the lips, moving Reggie back until he’s between Alex and the counter, cupping Reggie’s cheeks like he’s holding the entire universe in his hands, not just a boy who’s hopelessly in love with him. He pulls back for a second, and Reggie assumes he’ll go for the neck, but Alex kisses every part of his face — his cheeks, his chin, his forehead, his eyelids, his nose — with the softest touch and Reggie can’t stop giggling because this beautiful boy _loves_ him, _wants_ him, _adores_ him, and is kissing _him_ in the middle of _their_ kitchen, in _their_ apartment, in their _home_. 

And then Alex’s lips are back on his, and there’s so much love and care behind a single touch, and Reggie is surprised he hasn’t melted into a puddle by now. 

“Oh, my god,” someone says, and _that’s_ when they break apart, jumping to stand shoulder-to-shoulder, and then they remember they have company. Luke, the unfortunate witness, is a sputtering mess at the sight of his two best friends kissing. “You— you guys—” 

He doesn’t know. They never told him. Or Julie. _That’s_ what Reggie forgot. 

“You guys are together.” Okay, that was easy. “Like, together-together.” Good job, Luke, you did Alex and Reggie’s job for them— and then his eyes widen as he spots the rings. “No, you’re _together_ together-together.” 

What? 

“Luke, sweetie, please stop yelling.” Julie finally comes in, putting a hand on Luke’s shoulder, and guiding him to sit on a barstool. Julie’s eyes land on the rings but, thankfully, she doesn’t say anything, but she _does_ wink at Alex. “Morning, guys.” 

Hold on… what? 

“Reg?” Alex nudges him before he gets stuck in his own head. “You okay?” 

“Did— did they know you were gonna…?” 

Alex runs a hand through his hair. “So, last night, when you were in the bathroom, I was taking the change out of my pocket, because there’s a lot, and I accidentally took out the rings, too, and then Julie screamed and I dropped everything, and I _thought_ I got both of the rings, so I went back to my— our— _your_ room because you said to, and that’s when I figured out I only had the one—” 

“And then Alex told us he was gonna propose to you!” Luke says loudly, but somewhat strained, as if he’s trying not to yell. “And I was like, _fuck, did I miss something?_ Because Jules and I didn’t even know you were _dating_ —” 

“But we knew you guys _liked_ each other,” Julie points out, “because Reggie can’t stop with the heart eyes, and Alex told us—” 

“Wait, what?” Reggie interrupts, turning to Alex. “I took your ring and basically proposed to you, and yet _I’m_ the one who’s out of the loop?” 

“You stole his ring?” Julie shouts with a laugh. 

“It wasn’t a _theft_ , it was merely the law of _finders-keepers_ —” 

“I don’t think that works with _wedding rings_ —” 

“Well, it _did_ work, and now I’m _engaged_.” Wait. “Lex, we _are_ engaged, right?” 

Alex is now more of a blushing mess than Reggie could ever be. “Yes, I— I would— we should— yeah. Yeah. Yes, we are. If you want.” 

“Yeah,” Reggie says softly, putting his hand on Alex’s back. “Yeah, I do.” 

Luke groans, hitting his head on the counter. “Guys,” he mumbles, “you’re too cute and I hate it.” 

Alex reaches across the island and pats his head. “It’s okay, buddy.” 

“And to think,” Reggie starts, pulling Alex closer by the waist, “this all happened because your parents wanted to meet your lovely girlfriend, Julie.” 

Luke lifts his head in confusion while Julie smiles. “Aww, Alex, I didn’t know we were dating. You should've told me!” 

Alex rolls his eyes, although he doesn’t seem annoyed. “Yeah, my mom gave me the rings so I’d propose to you. And then she met Reggie. And then she heard Luke yelling on the phone about how _he_ was gonna propose to you, so I had to get the rings engraved before she could text me and ask me to give them back.” 

Reggie laughs. “Good thing she forgot—” 

A knock on the door interrupts their conversation. Reggie has no idea who it could be, but as soon as they shove their way in past Alex, all he knows is rage. 

“Alex, listen—” Thomas starts. Geez, not this guy _again_. Hasn’t he caused them enough trouble? 

“No. Get out. _Now_ ,” Reggie demands, pushing him through the doorway. 

But Thomas pulls him along by the wrist, moving their fight to the hallway. “Reg, come on—” He cuts himself off when he spots the ring. “Married? Already?” 

“Engaged,” Reggie says quietly. 

“He doesn’t know, does he?” Thomas smirks when Reggie doesn’t answer. He struggles to break free, but Thomas refuses to loosen his grip. “He’ll find out about us eventually.” 

“Nothing happened,” Reggie reminds them aloud, but it’s mostly for his own sake. “Nothing happened and you’re lying—” 

“Am I?” 

And that’s enough to set Reggie off. He sends a knee into Thomas’s crotch, stumbling back into the wall at the momentum as Thomas falls. “Stay the fuck away from us.” 

He slams the door once he’s back in the safety of their apartment and Alex locks it, then hovers his hand next to Reggie’s arm. “Reg?” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“For everything, for Thomas, for not—” He chokes back a sob. He can’t do this. 

“Can’t do what, Reg?” Alex asks, crouching next to him on the floor. 

Did he say that out loud? When did they get on the floor? His head— his head is spinning and he thinks he accidentally hits it against the door because Alex reaches forward and he flinches. It’s just Alex, he has nothing to worry about, why is he flinching? Why can’t he keep it together? 

He sees Alex move back, and suddenly, he’s too far away, he’s going to slip out of Reggie’s fingers, but at the same time, he’s too close, the room is too small, and he’s suffocating. 

His sweatshirt. He has to— he rips his sweatshirt off, tossing it in the other direction, not even looking where it lands. Alex’s hand is close. It’s far, but it’s close enough. Reggie taps it with his foot, and now Alex is holding his foot, and it’s kind of weird, but it’s warm. He sees Alex open his mouth, but he can’t hear anything being said. 

There’s a buzzing in his ears, and he can’t figure out where it’s coming from, so he pats himself down until he finds his phone in his pocket. He doesn’t remember why he set an alarm, especially since he always wakes up earlier than right now, but he can hear it. He can hear the stupid preset alarm music, but not Alex’s voice, but he can feel Alex’s hand on him— 

“Reggie.” 

It’s a whisper in an empty room and an echo from across a cave, but it’s _Alex_. He looks up and Alex gives him a warm smile and it’s okay. He’s okay. Everything’s okay. He thinks — he _hopes_ — he returns the smile, because Alex makes him smile, but his mind keeps going back to the alarm. Like, he seriously doesn’t know why he made it in the first place, so he reads the label, and all it says is “corn flakes.” He doesn’t even eat corn flakes? 

He shows it to Alex, who chuckles, and it’s music to Reggie’s ears, and he’s so in love with this boy— 

“I love you, too.” Alex’s voice comes gently, like marshmallows melting in hot chocolate and cookies fresh out of the oven and— 

“I’m hungry” is how he manages to respond. 

Alex laughs again and it’s light and loving and everything Reggie needs right now. “Can you stand?” 

Reggie nods, reaching for Alex’s hands to pull him out of the internal pit he almost fell into. Alex is so soft with him, but in the kindest way. He treats Reggie with such care, but never looks at him like he’s a delicate flower about to break, which is yet another reason why he loves Alex so much. 

He doesn’t know how he gets to the couch, but Luke is rubbing his back, Julie is holding his hands, and Alex is sitting on the coffee table, tracing circles with his thumbs on Reggie’s knees. 

“Do you want to talk?” Alex asks gently. 

He doesn’t. He _really_ doesn’t, but _Alex needs to know Alex needs to know Alex needs to know_ — “I have to tell you something.” 

Alex nods, offering a small smile, but that’ll disappear any second now. 

“It’s— it’s about me and— and Thomas.” 

Luke’s hand stops moving, Julie loosens her grip, and Alex’s voice wavers. “You know you can tell me anything, Reg.” 

He can. He _can_. 

But he can’t _say_ it. His tongue gets caught in his throat again. He pulls out his phone to type it out because that’s the next best option, but then he remembers the voice memo. He’s about to press play when he stops himself. 

“I can’t— I can’t listen to this, and I— I don’t— Alex, I don’t want you to—” 

“Reg,” Alex softly cuts him off. “We don’t have to—” 

“Alex, please.” He starts the recording and removes himself from the couch just as he hears his own voice on the phone, secluding himself in his room before he has to relive too much. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

**Flashback: August 2020: summer between junior and senior year of college.**

Reggie knew Alex would be having his boyfriend, Thomas, over for dinner tonight. He’d had Augie Isaac’s _308_ on repeat for the past hour, knowing he’d be stewing in his emotions because of… well, _everything_ , and he’d rather listen to someone else’s love story for a while. 

Thomas was always _odd_ with Reggie. Not in a way that made him think there was any bad blood, but it was an attitude that disappeared every time Alex came into the room. It was like Thomas was hiding the way he looked at Reggie. Like he was trying to communicate some message that Reggie couldn’t comprehend, but there was never a good time to ask. 

There was also the thing about Thomas being a _pathological liar_ and constantly stringing Alex along, telling him one thing and then backtracking and correcting him later. He made an excuse for being busy with ensemble choir rehearsal, later said he quit, but Reggie did the research and there was no evidence of Thomas being involved in any extracurriculars at all. He spent spring break in Maui, later claiming he didn’t even travel, and _No, Alex, you’re thinking of a different year_. 

As if on cue with the ending of _Endless_ (ha. Good one, Reg), there was a knock on the door, but he didn’t expect it to come so soon. He closed Spotify and started recording a voice memo before shoving his phone into his back pocket. He’d been compiling snippets of conversations for the past two weeks — not because Reggie was trying to break them up, though. Alex was his best friend. And, as a best friend, Reggie’s job was to make sure all of Alex’s boyfriends were good enough. 

(They never were, but he couldn’t consider Thomas the worst on his ranked list of Alex’s ex-boyfriends based on vibes alone. That spot was still being held by the asshole that cheated three times.) 

“Hey, man,” he said, even though Thomas breezed past him as soon as the door was open. 

“Alex isn’t here yet, right?” Thomas asked, setting a bouquet of flowers on the counter. There was a small card attached it, and although Reggie had memorized a book of flower symbolism years ago, he still hoped he was wrong in his analysis of Thomas’s picks. 

Reggie glanced back and forth between Thomas and the flowers, piecing together their meanings. “No, he’s at work.” 

“Cool, I wanted to surprise him.” Thomas caught his wandering eyes. “What?” 

“No— nothing—” 

“Reggie,” Thomas pressed, “is something wrong?” 

This was the first time the two of them had ever been _alone_ together. Sure, there were moments when Alex left the room when the three of them were hanging out. Or the single minute when Reggie and Thomas sat on the same towel when the band (and Thomas) went to the beach together (and thank fucking goodness for Bobby Wilson, who saved Reggie from plenty of awkward conversations that almost happened that day).

So, Reggie didn’t know what compelled him to blurt out the question that had been bothering him since he spotted Thomas’s primary choice of begonias, especially since they were acquaintances at best, and Thomas definitely wasn’t used to him yet. “Are you and Alex okay?”

“Of course,” Thomas answered sharply. “Why?” 

“It’s nothing, I swear—” 

“Reggie.” Thomas approached him from around the island. “Do you have a problem with me and Alex?” 

Reggie shook his head so hard he thought it would fall off. “No. No, of course not, he seems happy. You guys—” 

Thomas took his hand. “You can talk to me, Reg.” 

Again, they were acquaintances at best, which meant that Thomas didn’t have nickname or hand-holding privileges. “No, I—” He backed up into the counter. When did that get there? 

“Reggie,” Thomas repeated, lowering his voice. “What’s wrong?” 

“No— _nothing_ —” 

Then Thomas’s hand found his hip while the other pressed on the counter, boxing him in. “Are you jealous?” 

“What? No! Of course not—” 

“I won’t tell him if you won’t.” 

Reggie’s throat went dry. “Tell him what?” 

“That’s the spirit,” Thomas said with a wink, pulling at Reggie’s shirt. 

“No, that’s not—” And then Thomas’s hands untucked Reggie’s shirt from his pants. “What are you—” And the hands trailed too low _too low_ — “Stop— _stop_ —” And that’s when Reggie pushed Thomas off, steadying himself against the counter, but his knees were buckling, and there was a stranger in his apartment— 

“Sorry I’m late.” Alex’s voice came from miles away, who knew how much time had passed, followed by the sound of a greeting kiss, then, “Reg?” 

“I think he’s having one of those, uh, panic attacks?” Thomas guessed, though he was spot-on for being the damn person that caused it. 

“Hey, Reg?” Alex’s voice was much closer than before, clearer than anything, which meant the attack was ending, and that it was — probably? — shorter than usual. “It’s Alex, can you hear me?” 

Reggie nodded, reaching out a shaky hand. “Room?” 

Alex smiled and gently guided him, unaware of the cold expression on Thomas’s face as they passed him, until the two of them were seated on Reggie’s bed. “Do you wanna talk?” 

“No, it was—” Thomas winked from the kitchen. “Bad day,” Reggie said quickly. “I’m fine now.” 

Alex quirked an eyebrow. “Are you sure?” 

Reggie nodded. He would tell Alex later. “Yeah. Yeah, of course, Lex.” 

But Alex still wasn’t buying it. “Reg—” 

Reggie put a hand on Alex’s cheek, trying to smile as genuinely as he could. “I’ll be okay.” 

“Okay.” Alex nodded, as if to physically reassure himself. “Okay. Um, we were gonna order pickup from that burger place, what do you want?” 

Reggie shrugged. “Just… get me whatever you’re having.” 

Thomas smirked and Reggie didn’t realize the _unintended_ double meaning of that sentence until he said it aloud. 

“Okay, two hot dogs with a side of food poisoning—” 

“Alexander—” 

“I’m _kidding_ , Reg—” 

“Can I change my mind?” Reggie asked abruptly. “You know my usual, right? Can I get that instead?” 

“Of course.” Alex stood, pressing a kiss to the top of Reggie’s head. “Yell if you need me, okay?” 

Reggie nodded before falling back on his bed, tuning out the dinner discussion as Alex made his way back to the kitchen. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t miss the way Thomas questioned if Alex kissed all of his friends, or if that behavior was just Reggie-specific, followed by, “He down for a threesome?” to which Alex replied, “Oh, god— never say that again.” 

(He also didn’t miss Alex announcing that he was about to shower, and Thomas’s witty remark of “Without me?” Wow, dude, where do you come up with these. Just… yikes.) 

It took Reggie too long to realize that Alex didn’t close the door on the way out of his room. Because Thomas was leaning against the doorframe. 

Reggie sprang up, failing to put some distance between them in his tiny room. 

“You’ll have what he’s having?” Thomas asked. 

“It was— it was an accident.” Reggie backed up into his wall. Damn it, not again. “I don’t want—” 

“I already said we don’t have to tell him.” Thomas’s hands were on either side of him. Reggie should be better at escaping shit like this, shouldn’t he? “And now that he’s busy, we can pick up where we left off.” 

Before he could speak, Thomas’s mouth was burning his neck. Reggie wasn’t sure if he screamed or if Alex had Spider-Man-like senses for when Reggie needed him, but Thomas jumped away and Reggie slid to the floor, just before Alex rushed in, half-dressed and frantic. 

“I think he’s having another panic attack?” He wasn’t, but he mentally damned Thomas for being such a good actor. Or bad, because he was evil? Something like that. Whatever. 

“Okay—” 

“What should I—” 

“Leave.” 

Thomas stepped back, his expression an odd mix of offense and something Reggie couldn’t pin. “What?” 

“Go to my room, or pick up our food, or something. Just— don’t be _here_.” 

“Alex—” 

“He barely knows you and I don’t want you making it worse, so, let me handle this.” 

Thomas scoffed. “Fine.” 

Reggie almost didn’t register the sound of the front door clicking shut until Alex was sitting with him. “Is he— is he gone?” 

“Yeah, he’s gone. Is it okay if I get up to lock the door? I’ll be right back.” Reggie nodded and Alex was gone and back before he knew it. He held out his hands in front of Reggie, though Reggie couldn’t bring himself to touch anyone or anything, not even Alex. 

“You can’t— he— I’m sorry.” 

“Reg, it’s okay. It’s just us, love.” 

Oh. _Love_. Julie called them all _love_ a lot. Very nice. Like home. Safe. 

_Fuck_. Alex wasn’t safe. 

“He’s not good— he’s not— he— Alex, you— you can’t— you _can’t_.” 

“Can’t what, Reg?” His eyes glanced down for a second. “Reg, there’s, um, there’s a bruise on your neck?” 

Reggie’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry! Fuck, Alex, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—” 

But Alex hushed him. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. Just talk to me, okay?” 

Reggie nodded and he felt every bone in his body shake. “He— he, um— he grabbed me.” 

“Thomas?” Alex clarified softly. 

“And— and he— he got too _close_.” 

“Reg—” 

“And he’s lying to you—” _The voice memo_. Reggie took his phone out of his pocket and stopped the ongoing recording — _5:29_. It was too long, it was so short, but it felt so much longer than it actually was. It was _too much_ — and saved it before handing the phone to Alex. “I— I started recording him be— because he kept— he kept changing all his— his stories and screwing with y— you, and I…” Reggie shook his head as if that would prevent the tears threatening to spill. “I’m sorry.” 

Alex put the phone on the floor, not even bothering to listen to a single voice memo. “I trust you, Reg. I trust you more than anyone. I don’t need to hear these.” 

“Are— are you sure?” 

“Yes, Reg, I’m sure. Do you— can I— can I hold your hand?” 

Reggie hesitated, but eventually met Alex’s hand with his own, giving it a light squeeze. “Is he—” 

“No,” Alex decided before Reggie could finish his thought. “He’s not coming back here.” 

“Oh. Okay.” 

“I’ll break up with him tomorrow. In-person. I owe him that much.” 

“Okay.” 

Alex paused, narrowing his eyes. “This is the part where you say I don’t owe him anything, and that I should just call him and get it over with.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Alex squeezed Reggie’s hand again, gazing at him with too much adoration for someone who just announced he would break up with his boyfriend. “He’s gonna be back with food soon, but I’ll send him away, and we can watch anything you want. Sound like a plan?” 

“Okay.” 

“Reggie,” Alex whispered, finally getting him to look up. Alex seemed so… not heartbroken. “Will you be okay staying in here while I answer the door?” 

“Okay.” 

Alex nodded, giving Reggie a weak smile. “Okay.” 

Alex warded off Thomas easily, claiming that Reggie was feeling sick and that they would postpone celebrating their second month together — _Jesus fucking Christ, why did Reggie have to break them up now_ — until the next day, then closed the door and accidentally stole Thomas’s dinner. Oops. 

Alex stole one of his fries, pulling his attention back. “What’s on your mind?” 

“I don’t like his flowers,” Reggie announced. 

“They’re not _that_ bad. I mean, some of the red ones are ugly, but I’ll throw them out if you want.” 

“It’s not— it’s not that they’re _bad_ ; I just… don’t like what they symbolize.” 

“Julie got you that book, right?” 

Reggie nodded. 

“Okay, tell me what they mean.” 

“It’s like— the message is completely mixed. On the one hand, he’s saying he adores you and he wants to elope.” The white camellias and the red spider flowers — which Alex called ugly, so. No elopement for them. “But he’s also calling you stupid and jealous.” The red horseshoe geraniums and the yellow hyacinths. “But the worst part is the white begonias, because the whole flower itself is a double meaning. Like, white usually symbolizes innocence, but begonias are literally a warning to be careful, so he just contradicted himself in, like, ten different ways with this whole bouquet, and he didn’t even realize it because he probably just picked out the flowers he thought were pretty. And I know you don’t over-analyze flower meanings, but I do, and he told you he sucks _with a gift_.” 

When Reggie looked up, Alex was staring. “I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly, fiddling with the straw of his milkshake. 

“I love your mind.” 

“You do?” 

Alex laid his arm to rest over the back of the couch — an open invitation for Reggie to move closer, but he still… no, he couldn’t. “You’re the smartest guy I know, Reg. You’re more perceptive than you let on, you always know what’s going on—” 

_No I don’t no I don’t no I don’t—_

“Can I ask you something about him?” 

Reggie froze. “Um, sure?” 

“You said… you said he grabbed you?” Reggie stayed silent and Alex continued. “Can… can I ask where?” 

_No no no no no don’t make him think about this again—_

“You know what? Forget I asked. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” 

Alex stared at him for a few seconds before turning to face him completely. “Reg? I’m sorry.” When Reggie didn’t answer, Alex put a hand out between them. “I’m really sorry I brought him here. I’m sorry I dated someone who made you feel so… _unsafe_ , and I didn’t even see it.” 

“Alex—” 

“No, Reg, I should’ve realized it sooner. Like I said, smartest guy I know. You figured out what was going on and, without you, I’d still be dating that asshole because I thought he was making me happy, and I know the only reason you didn’t say anything is because you thought that, too. But, please, if I ever date someone who— who hurts you, _tell me_ and I’ll dump them in a heartbeat.” 

Reggie’s jaw dropped. “Lex, you can’t—” 

“I can and I will, Reg. You’re my best friend. You’ll always be more important than some guy I’ve only known for, like, a few weeks. And if he doesn’t like you, then he’s out, because you’re never getting rid of me.” 

Reggie laughed, and then Alex laughed, and it was glorious, and it reminded him why this felt like home in the first place. 

_Wait, no, something’s missing_. Reggie leaned his head against Alex’s arm and _that_ was it. It was everything that made Alex _Alex_ and stayed with him when he needed it on his worst days and cheered him on through his best. 

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” God, this boy could read his mind. 

Reggie gave him a small nod. “So,” he started, because there was too much tension and he needed to diffuse it. “No threesome, huh?” 

“Is it weird that—” Alex cut himself off. 

“What?” 

“Stupid question.” 

“You know I’m all for stupid questions.” Reggie grinned in hopes of easing whatever anxious thoughts were racing through Alex’s brain. 

“He’d, like... he’d check people out sometimes,” Alex admit. “And I tried not to let it bother me because, well, at least he wasn’t cheating or flirting or anything? So, it was okay, you know?” 

Reggie stayed quiet, only to encourage Alex to keep talking, despite the fact that, no, his boyfriend noticeably checking out other people was _not_ okay. 

“And there’s that stupid thing in movies where the girl’s boyfriend will cheat on her with her best friend, and I know I never have to worry about you doing that shit, but, like... I— the thought of him looking at you made me sick.” 

Reggie’s heart dropped, but he tried not to let it show, opting to flash Alex an uneasy smile. “I’m that bad, huh?” 

“No! No, of course not,” Alex recovered. “I... it’s like... in my head, you’re off-limits. Like, I didn’t care about him checking out other people, but if it was _you_ … no. That— _no_.” Alex groaned, running a hand through his own hair. “That sounds way too weird and possessive. I’m sorry.” 

Reggie should’ve told him. 

“No, it’s…” Reggie tried to steady his voice, tried playing it off with a short laugh as he settled into Alex’s side. “I wouldn’t want your boyfriend checking me out either.” 

“Good,” Alex decided, and that was the end of that. 

Later, around three in the morning, after watching him pace for, like, thirty seconds — “Should I do this now or wait until morning? I should do this now, right?” — Alex found the courage to leave a heartwarming message in Thomas’s voicemail. 

_“Hey, Thomas, it’s Alex. Just calling to let you know that I don’t think this is gonna work out between us? Mainly because you’re a lying bastard and you gave Reggie two panic attacks within the span of five minutes. So. ‘It’s not me, it’s you’ and all that, right?”_

And then he climbed back into Reggie’s bed like that was where he belonged the whole time. 

“He’s gone?” Reggie asked, trying not to sound too happy. 

Alex, on the other hand, seemed ecstatic. “Gone for good.” 

And that was when Reggie turned over, finding Alex’s hand, and giving it a soft kiss on the knuckles. 

And they were safe again. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Reggie?” Alex knocks softly on Reggie’s bedroom door as he opens it. 

It’s been about five minutes. They finished listening to the recording and now Alex hates him. “Alex, I—” 

“Reg, please—” 

“I’m so sorry—” 

“Can I hug you?” 

Reggie pauses. That’s probably one of the last things he expected Alex to say. “What?” 

“Please, I just— I just want to hold you—” 

And then Reggie throws himself into Alex’s arms like there’s nowhere else to exist in the universe but here. Alex pulls him impossibly closer, running his hand up and down Reggie’s back. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

“You could’ve told me,” Alex says after a comfortably quiet minute. 

“I did.” 

“I mean _everything_ ,” Alex clarifies. “But thank you for telling me now.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.” 

“I know.” 

“Good.” Alex kisses his temple. “Luke and Julie want to hug you, too.” 

“They can come in.” 

Luke must have a super sense related to when someone wants his hugs because he jumps into Reggie’s side, followed by Julie joining them, calmer, but with the same enthusiasm. 

“We love you, Reg,” Julie mumbles from somewhere beneath his arm. 

Reggie hums contently, even when Luke bumps his nose while trying to kiss his forehead. 

* * *

**reg**  
BOBBERS

**bobby**  
reginald 

**reg**  
1\. i love you  
2\. alex and i  
uhh

**bobby**  
1\. i love you, too   
2\. alex and you…? 

**reg**  
:)

**bobby**  
reginald.

**reg**  
:)))

**bobby**  
reg, babe,,   
something you wanna share?

**reg**  
engaged :)

**bobby**  
enGAYged   
also   
WHAT THE FUCK   
SINCE WHEN??? 

**reg**  
uhhh two days ago?

**bobby**  
YOU WAITED TWO DAYS TO TELL ME 

**reg**  
maybe…  
at least this isn't a repeat of J+L?  
or C+F?

**bobby**   
almost forgot about that   
THOSE ASSHOLES   
anyway   
i didn’t know you were together?   
at all??   
reggie??? 

**reg**  
uhhhh

**bobby**  
how long have you been together?? 

**reg**  
a few weeks…

**bobby**  
and you forgot to tell me that...   
and you’re… engaged now… 

**reg**  
yeah :)

**bobby**  
you are   
an absolute mess   
you know that, right? 

**reg**  
ANYWAY  
how’s your love life, hot stuff?

**bobby**  
this conversation is over   
goodbye 

**reg**  
;)

* * *

Alex is cooking dinner when Reggie notices his heart beat slower than it used to. 

Alex gazes at him with such fondness — a look reserved for Reggie alone — and his heartbeat is… calm. 

It’s not that he’s falling out of love. It’s that he’s so far into it, he no longer gets nervous. His heart doesn’t speed up when he and Alex kiss goodbye before either of them go out; he’s used to the affection now. He’s letting himself accept it as normal. 

He’s had seventeen years to get used to it, but now, when Reggie is one hundred percent certain that his feelings are reciprocated, he doesn’t have to be afraid. He doesn’t have to restrain himself out of worry that Alex will never look at him the same. He can kiss Alex. He can hug him and kiss his forehead and fall in love with him over and over and never be caught off-guard. 

It’s not a surprise when Alex reaches for his hand in a crowded room; it’s automatic. They always come back to each other. 

He still gets butterflies in his stomach when Alex kisses his nose while they slow-dance at the cafe. When Alex picks him up mid-hug and spins him around. When Alex refers to him as _my beautiful Reggie_ out loud, which has always been Reggie’s made-up nickname for himself when he pretends to read Alex’s mind. And when Alex asks him how to play the banjo, only to double-cross him and serenade him with _River of Happiness_ by Dolly Parton, because Alex has been secretly teaching himself when Reggie isn’t home, all with the hope of taking his breath away? 

When he surprises Alex with a picnic on the quietest part of the beach, free of distractions and anxieties. When he lays his head on Alex’s chest, hearing the way their hearts beat in time with each other. When someone asks about Alex, and Reggie slips up and says _That’s my husband_ , even though they aren’t married, but he refuses to correct himself. 

He still gets butterflies when he tells Alex _I love you_ , because the all-encompassing phrase is merely an understatement. 

He’s submerged in an ocean of adoration, but he isn’t drowning. He’s learning how to breath again, lungs full of love, only now, he has Alex by his side. 

Loving Alex is normal. It’s one of the most normal things in the world, like how grass is green, and puppies are cute, and Dolly Parton is one of the greatest songwriters in the world. 

Loving Alex is home. It’s part of Reggie. It’s ingrained into his soul, like music and awful puns. They exist as two separate, completely whole beings, as neighboring stars in the galaxy, as the treble and bass clefs. Together, they’re _Alex and Reggie_ , intertwining rhythms, forming the same constellation, louder in love than a whole damn orchestra. 

* * *

**April 2021.**

“Hello?” 

“Hi, this is Andi from Covington Real Estate. Am I speaking with Reggie Peters?” 

Reggie almost trips as he rushes out of his room when he overhears Alex answering _his_ phone on speaker. 

“He’s right here,” Alex says, handing Reggie the phone with a raised eyebrow. 

But Reggie can’t tell him. Not yet. At least not until after this call, when Andi tells him everything he wants to hear. He cuts off the conversation because he _needs_ to talk to Alex first. 

When he turns back, Alex is staring at him with his arms crossed, and Reggie _cannot_ read his expression. “Did I screw up by hiding the fact that I’ve been looking for a house because I wanted to wait and surprise you when I found the perfect one?”

Alex narrows his eyes. “How perfect?” 

“A big room we could use as a music studio so we can finally get your drum set out of the storage unit. Actual pantry space. A fenced-in backyard because I _know_ you’ve been thinking about gardening—” 

“Were you just going to buy it without telling me?” 

“No! No, of course not. I just— I didn’t want to get your hopes up if I couldn’t get an appointment to look at it in-person, but…” Reggie gives him a nervous grin as he gestures to his phone because that appointment is theirs if they want it, and Reggie _really_ does. 

Alex looks at him wordlessly, lips parting, and Reggie’s heart _will_ burst out of his chest if Alex doesn’t speak soon— “Okay,” he says with a nod. “Let’s look at the house.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, real—” 

Reggie jumps into his arms and attacks him with a hug before he can finish his sentence. 

~~~ 

It’s a twenty-minute drive away from their current apartment, which means they’ll probably get to use their car more often. And it’s in Venice. 

_If My Heart Was a House_ by Owl City starts playing from Alex’s Spotify as soon as he parks, but Reggie hears him humming the rest as they exit the car. 

If Reggie thought he fell in love with the house when he toured it online, watching Alex fall in love with it in real time as they step inside is its own wonder. 

It’s definitely smaller than the pictures made it seem, the kitchen is a bit cramped, and they’d end up sharing a bedroom instead of having their own rooms like before, but none of that matters. The backyard is big enough to fuel Alex’s budding plant obsession. The doors are wide enough to transport the drum set without worrying about scratching walls or the instrument. They’d have space for a table. Not just a coffee table, but an _actual dining table_. 

“We can’t afford this,” Alex says, running a hand through his hair as they sit on the front step of the porch. 

That’s right, a porch. There’s a _nice fucking porch_ built onto what could be their home. 

“I did the math and we _can_.” Reggie takes his hand, letting Alex fidget with his fingers. “We could play it safe and rent it, which is a totally valid option… but Andi said the company will make an exception and let us pay in installments if we want to buy it because, apparently, _Caleb_ runs the company.” 

“Ray’s friend Caleb?” 

“Yeah, _Covington_ Real Estate. Should’ve figured it out sooner.” Reggie kisses Alex’s knuckles and continues. “We’ll have more money to work with once we stop renting the storage unit, I’m booked solid for lessons for the next year, I’ve been working at Kenny’s for the past three months—” 

“You have?” 

“I told you, I wanted to surprise you—” 

“Reggie—” 

“And I have one more.” He pulls a folded-up letter from his jacket pocket and hands it to Alex, who practically tears it open when he sees the writing on the envelope. 

Alex reads it. And then rereads it again and again. His eyes travel up and down the page at least eight times before he speaks. “You’re kidding.” 

_Reginald—  
_ _Consider this a parting gift in case we never cross paths again.  
_ _Treat him well. Keep him happy._

And then, the number for a savings account in Alex’s name, which was opened by the Mercer parents twenty-two years ago, and has been steadily gaining interest— 

“This is too much. This—” 

“—is more than enough to start paying off the house, and bills, and, fuck, if we need to get a second car. It’d have to be used, too, and, like, probably really cheap so we can have more money set aside for the house, and we’ll probably have to postpone the wedding for a bit, and I know we said we’d wait until after Luke and Julie, and they haven’t even set a date…” Reggie stops himself, because Alex sure won’t, especially when he keeps staring a way that makes Reggie melt. “What?” 

Alex gives him a soft smile as he bumps their shoulders together. “You didn’t even mention that the beach is a mile away.” 

“I didn’t want you to worry about the money.” 

“How can I worry when I have you?” Alex says softly. 

Reggie gawks at him. “You’re _always_ worried—” 

“Okay, smartass, I was trying to be romantic—” 

“Well, you’re doing a stellar job because you’re my star and I love you.” 

Alex fails to hide his grin. “I can’t win with you, can I?” 

“Nope,” Reggie says, thoroughly pleased with his victory as he drops a kiss on Alex’s shoulder, then rests his head in the same spot. 

Alex intertwines their fingers as they watch the view of the street. They’re used to the noise of cars driving past their apartment, but these ones are slower. A speed limit sign says they’re in a school zone. Maybe that school needs a music teacher and Reggie could apply. 

“Let’s do it,” Alex says, breaking him out of his thoughts. 

“Hmm?” 

“Let’s buy a house.” Alex pulls him up to stand and into a kiss, lifting Reggie until he’s on his toes. 

“We’re buying a _house_!” Reggie steals another kiss, bouncing on the spot, on a porch that will soon be theirs. He tries tugging Alex inside, but he doesn’t budge. “ _Alright_ , Alex, let’s go home.” 

Alex steadies him, wrapping his arms around Reggie’s waist, kissing the tip of his nose, and softening his voice to say, “I’m always home when I’m with you.” 

_“If my heart was a house, you’d be home.”_

* * *

There are three things Reggie Peters wholeheartedly knows to be true: 

  1. The ocean, although terrifying, is the second-best shade of blue in the world, because first place belongs to Alex’s eyes. 
  2. Banjos are the best instrument, although bass guitars are a close second, but the drums hold a special place in his heart. 
  3. Alex Mercer is in love with him, too. 



**Author's Note:**

> damn, bitch, wtf genre was this
> 
> (i dare you to reread this and take a shot of water every time i project onto reg and/or give him something i want. examples: a live-in best friend/on-call fake partner, pizza, an iced americano, a will to do college)
> 
> i have a prequel, sequel (idk how i feel about that one, though), and companion piece (might just combine it with the prequel depending on *gestures vaguely*) planned so uhh stay tuned for those i guess?
> 
> also i had about 90% of this written and then i started shipping bob/reg and i had to force myself not to make them romantic (rip the alex/bob/reg potential) (i adore bob/reg but i had the january-april sections finished ( _and_ their platonic kissing established in the prequel) before i even started the christmas party bit and then i was like "hmm what if they hooked up. but alex doesn't know. you know. for Spice. ?" so, no, i didn't want to completely change the final 94 (out of 139) pages of my google doc) so. 
> 
> thanks for coming along for the ride! love you, worms (affectionate)!!!


End file.
